


Intertwined

by angejolras



Series: the intertwined verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, Multi, Unplanned Pregnancy, this should be interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 162,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angejolras/pseuds/angejolras
Summary: One drunken night of passion leads to unintended consequences.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey i'm writing another enjonine au!! whaddaya know
> 
> everyone knows i'm a total enjonine ho, and i currently have six (6) different multichapter au's in the works for the pairing, this being one of them. i've never really written anything seriously angsty so this will be the first, and i hope i'll be able to pull it off (with a little help from a few of my dear friends, of course).
> 
> rated m for sexual themes and occasional raciness ;)
> 
>  
> 
> content warnings: pregnancy (obviously). expect a fairly descriptive depiction of childbirth at one point (again, obviously!).
> 
>  
> 
> enough with the rambling! on to the story!!

* * *

“ENJOLRAS!”

Éponine’s terrified scream of his name rang out through the apartment they shared, immediately sending him running to the source of her scream, and he found her in the bathroom, sitting on the floor in tears and clutching something in her hand.

“’Ponine, what is it?” Enjolras asked urgently, dropping down to the floor to sit beside her, taking her free hand in his. “What happened?”

Trembling, she held out whatever it was she was holding in her hand for him to take, fighting to hold back tears, her bottom lip quivering.

“’Jolras, I—I’m pregnant,” she managed to choke out before breaking down in sobs, burying her face in her hands, not wanting to see Enjolras’ reaction.

Enjolras stared in utter disbelief at the pregnancy test in his hand, unable to process it. The two pink lines indicating positive were unmistakable.

“Who did this to you, ’Ponine?” he asked, his voice dangerously low and quiet, a million thoughts racing through his head all at once and making him unable to think straight. Éponine looked up, tears in her eyes as she met his steely blue-eyed gaze.

“What?” She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Was he seriously that fucking dense?

“ _Who did this to you?_ ” he repeated, anger building up inside him at the mere thought of someone taking advantage of his best friend and impregnating her. Struggling to stay calm, he went on, “I swear, when I get my hands on the jerk who—who knocked you up, I’ll—”

Enjolras was just about to get up and storm out of the bathroom before Éponine grabbed his wrist and shrieked, “Wait!”

She pulled him back down, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. “About the baby…” She took a deep breath to compose herself, terrified to see how he’d react. “It’s yours.”

Enjolras froze, his blue eyes widening in shock at her words. Éponine held her breath, not daring to breathe as she waited for him to respond.

“ _What?_ ” he finally choked out, stunned beyond belief at the revelation that he himself had been the one to get her knocked up. “But ’Ponine, you and me—you and I—we’re not even— _what_ —”

Bits and pieces of it were all coming back to him now—he vaguely recalled how they had both gotten drunk out of their minds on his twenty-fourth birthday a little under a couple of months ago, and one thing led to another and they had woken up naked in a mess of tangled limbs in his bed the next morning, the both of them nursing horrid hangovers. He groaned audibly.

“It must’ve been us getting drunk on your birthday.” Éponine tearfully voiced what Enjolras had been thinking, rather frightened to think about what will happen next. She had been throwing up for eight days in a row before realising she had skipped a period, and after that stomach-sinking realisation, she had immediately gone out to buy a few dozen pregnancy tests of all different kinds as dread filled her system. Now, she was sitting on the cold bathroom floor with Enjolras, her best friend and roommate and _the fucking father of her child_ , several other positive pregnancy tests scattered haphazardly on the floor around them.

She began to cry even more, prompting him to pull her into his arms as she shook with sobs, burying her face in his chest and crying her eyes out. He stroked her hair in a weak attempt to be reassuring, his arms wrapped tight around her and his large hand cradling her head as she sobbed uncontrollably, shaking in his arms.

“I’ve ruined my life,” she sobbed, trying to catch her breath as she shook and struggled for air. He bit his lip and said nothing as she continued to cry, rambling and sobbing into his chest. “I—I’m only twenty-three, I’ve—I’ve _just_ gotten a great job for someone my age, and you just got that job at that firm! God, we were so irresponsible! We should’ve used protection, we—” She stopped short and merely continued to sob, realising that she didn’t mean what she would have said before she cut herself off. In her distress, she was stunned to find that she didn’t regret sleeping with him. Her life may have just been ruined, but she didn’t regret sleeping with him at all.

No. That was besides the point.

“My life is ruined, ’Jolras,” she wept, her tears soaking into his shirt. “ _Our_ lives are ruined. Enjolras, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” She broke down sobbing again, unable to form a single coherent word as tears spilled from her eyes. Enjolras’ heart broke at her words.

“’Ponine.” He pulled back to take her face into his hands, gently cradling her face and tilting her head up so he’d be looking into her red-rimmed eyes. If there was one thing at the top of the list of things he absolutely hated, it was seeing her cry. “I’m at fault here as well. Our lives are not ruined, Éponine, and I promise you we’ll get through this.” He was about to say something else but ended up firmly deciding against it, thinking that this was a wildly inappropriate time to confess his feelings to her and pour his heart out about what he felt.

First things first.

Éponine just wept even more, trembling and clinging to him as if he was a lifeline. Enjolras simply sat there, holding her tight and stroking her hair as he patiently waited for her sobs to die down before speaking again. When her tears finally ceased, he let go of her and scooted back to properly look at her again.

“What do you want to do, ’Ponine?” he asked her earnestly, gazing into her scared brown eyes and reaching out to stroke her cheek reassuringly. “I promise I’ll support you no matter what decision you make.”

“Don’t you want a say in it?” she replied feebly, her voice barely audible, feeling numb and completely empty. “You’re the father, after all.” He was the only person she had slept with in _months_ —nobody else could possibly be the father.

“’Ponine, why should I have a say?” Éponine was stunned to see that Enjolras seemed genuinely surprised at such a question. “It’s your body. Whatever choice you end up making, it should be entirely up to you.”

Éponine avoided his gaze and stared down at the floor, shocked at his words and unable to believe that he was actually offering to put her needs first. She began to really, truly think about her options, trying to clear her head of the awful thoughts that were plaguing her mind as she considered the pros and cons of each option. On one hand, she had always wanted to have a child and love them right, something she had so desperately wanted when she was a child herself—she just hadn’t expected it to be this early in her life, and the child had been fathered by her best friend whom she _lived_ with, no less. A child would definitely be a massive inconvenience—and that was putting it _extremely_ mildly—but she would be willing to put up with the consequences if it meant she got to give the child the love and care they deserve, something she had never gotten a lot of in her childhood, and she knew Enjolras would drop everything without a second thought to help her raise their child.

She stole a sideways glance at him at the thought, her breath catching in her throat. _Their_ child.

On the other hand, she had just gotten a job as a high school art teacher in a public school in the Upper East Side, where she and Enjolras lived, and a baby would definitely complicate things quite a bit—she already had to deal with hormonal teenagers on a daily basis, she certainly didn’t need a baby that required constant attention thrown into the mix. She definitely knew that she didn’t want to give up the child for adoption—she didn’t want to carry a child for nine months only to give them up for adoption. She knew that it was selfish, but she just couldn’t bear the thought of having to part with a child of hers, especially after going through a lot of pain to carry and give birth to one.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Enjolras’ voice, and she looked up to find him gazing at her expectantly with an odd look in his blue eyes.

“Well? Do you need some time to think about it?” he prompted gently, reaching out to place his hand on top of hers. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, looking down at their intertwined hands and missing how he smiled brightly at the mere action, gazing at her like she was the moon. “I promise I’ll support you no matter what, ’Ponine. Abortion isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she thought about it again. Yes, an abortion would _probably_ be ideal, but she wasn’t some knocked-up teenager. She was twenty-three, she was a grown-ass woman—she should be able to handle it! Then again, this was quite literally a life-changing decision, and she was well aware that parenthood shouldn’t be taken lightly. She had witnessed first-hand what could happen to unwanted children—her parents had actually _sold_ her two youngest brothers, the brothers she didn’t even remember the names of, to some strangers and she never saw them again, leaving her to wonder what had happened to them, and Gavroche had been kicked out into the streets when he was eight, although thankfully now their parents were locked up and he was in his senior year of high school, living with Courfeyrac and Grantaire in Greenwich Village, happy and safe. Even with all that, Éponine found herself leaning more towards that side than abortion, although she wasn’t quite sure why just yet.

“I think,” she said finally, taking a deep breath and squeezing Enjolras’ hand, “I think I want to keep it.”

Enjolras gazed at her with an unreadable look in his piercing blue eyes as he squeezed her hand right back, unable to ignore how his stomach was doing somersaults at her touch. “Are you sure?”

Éponine nodded, a little more confident this time. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Enjolras bit his lip as she gently pulled her hand away to stare down into her lap, and he began to think back to the night of his birthday. The Amis had dragged him to this karaoke place downtown, where they had succeeded in getting him seriously drunk. Once he and Éponine had gotten home, he thought he had made some offhand comment about how nice it would be to kiss her, and then just like that they were making out and couldn’t keep their hands off each other as one thing led to another, and the next thing they knew, they were naked in his bed, him on top of her, curious hands touching bare skin as strangled groans and high-pitched moans filled the air. He barely remembered what had happened by the time they woke up, completely hungover, although he remembered how surprised he had been to find a naked Éponine clinging to him in her sleep, tangled in the sheets. After realising that he too was completely unclothed, he had come to the realisation that they had had sex, and he probably would have been over the moon about it if not for the fact that they had both been drunk out of their minds. Hell, he was sure she probably wouldn’t have slept with him had they both been sober. Regardless of that, he knew that they’d have talk about it sooner or later, whether he liked it or not.

“So…,” he began awkwardly, averting his gaze by picking up another pregnancy test nearby and pointedly staring at it. Also positive. “About that night…”

Éponine cringed, having expected the topic to arise sooner or later. “I don’t think we remembered to use protection,” she murmured softly, biting her lip.

Enjolras picked up another pregnancy test, determinedly staring at it so to avoid her gaze as he asked quietly, “Do you regret it?” The words “us sleeping together” remained unspoken, although the words clearly lingered in his tone.

“No,” she replied candidly, her voice barely audible. Her voice lowering even more, she mumbled, “I don’t think I regret sleeping with you.”

She remembered a few extremely vague details of their hot, steamy, alcohol-fuelled night of passion, and it seemed petty and insignificant in light of the pregnancy, but she couldn’t help but think about how Enjolras had been a fucking _amazing_ lay. She had been with plenty of men—in fact, she had been with plenty of women as well, but that was besides the point right now—and he had been the only man who had succeeded in completely satisfying her, from what she could remember. The morning after the incident, they had engaged in lazy morning sex despite their hangovers and proceeded to simply content themselves to lie there in bed together for the rest of the morning in their post-sex haze, wrapped up in each other’s arms as they talked together about their friends, the universe, their jobs, _anything_ to pass the time.

She hoped she hadn’t said anything she might regret.

“We’ll have to make an appointment, ’Ponine.” The sound of Enjolras’ voice brought her back to earth, and she turned to gaze at him with uncertainty in her dark eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to,” Éponine murmured, feeling tears pooling in her eyes yet again as she thought about becoming a mother. It was all so scary and she felt like she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but surprisingly enough, she found that she didn’t particularly want an abortion. Enjolras reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly, giving her a warm, encouraging smile.

She could’ve sworn that his smile, his real genuine smile—not just the insincere simper he often gave overly friendly strangers or that maddeningly sexy smirk of his that he had on his face whenever he was particularly pleased with himself—was the actual embodiment of sunshine.

She reached out and let him pull her into a hug, burying her face in his chest and sniffling slightly as she felt tears pricking her eyes once again, wondering how the hell the two of them are supposed to go through this. She tried not to think about it, her mind wandering to thoughts of how nice it felt to be wrapped up in Enjolras’ muscular arms as he hugged her tight in his own attempt to be reassuring, a somewhat conflicted look on his face at the thought of confessing his feelings to her at one point.

Éponine soon pulled away and scooted back, clutching one of the pregnancy tests to her chest as she willed herself to stay calm. “Can I have some time alone?” she requested softly. Enjolras nodded in understanding.

“Whatever you want.” He had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her forehead before he got up, reminding himself that they weren’t in a relationship—wanting them to be wasn’t going to make it a reality—and he only got her knocked up due to copious amounts of alcohol. Once he had exited the bathroom and shut the door behind him, Éponine leaned back against the cold wall, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in her hand with slight fright and uncertainty. A long-winded sigh left her lips as she felt tears forming in her eyes once again.

_Well, shit. I’m pregnant._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've read all the way down to here, then hello!! thank you so much for reading!!! i know the first chapter wasn't much, but i promise you the following chapters are much longer than this first one. what do you think of it so far?? i'd love to hear all your thoughts!


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much to all those who left comments/kudos on this little passion project of mine!! i really appreciate it!!!
> 
> this chapter is a little lighter, so rest assured, there won't be much angst... at least in this chapter.

* * *

On a bright, snowy Saturday morning a couple of days later, Éponine woke up to the sight of Enjolras walking into her room, balancing a tray of breakfast to bring to her in bed. She cocked her head questioningly at him, pleasantly surprised as he sat down at the edge of her bed and placed the tray neatly in her lap, making sure not to spill anything.

“’Jolras, you shouldn’t have,” she told him, lightly punching him in the shoulder as a hesitant smile appeared on her face. Enjolras smiled back at her, unaware of how he was gazing back at her with a fond, rather lovesick look on his face.

“You’re pregnant, ’Ponine,” he replied simply, reaching out to take her hand and squeezing it. “You’re knocked up because of me—breakfast in bed is the least I can do.”

Éponine smiled rather dolefully and took a bite out of her toast, nearly moaning aloud in delight at how surprisingly good it was. Within minutes, she had devoured all of her breakfast and was languidly sipping her orange juice while muttering complaints under her breath about how she couldn’t have coffee. Enjolras simply sat there at the edge of her bed, dressed in a tank top and Hufflepuff pyjama pants, watching Éponine gobble down the breakfast he had made for her, heedless of the small smile on his face. After some time, Éponine spoke again.

“You do realise we’ll have to tell the others at some point, right?” she told him, grimacing along when Enjolras went pale at the reminder. Pursing her lips, Éponine murmured, “I don’t really want to either, ’Jolras, but I can’t just tell them I went and swallowed a watermelon.” She took another sip of her orange juice and frowned. “I need my morning coffee!” she whined, pouting at the tray of whatever was left of her breakfast. She was an absolute monster in the morning without her coffee.

“’Ponine, you’re _pregnant_ ,” Enjolras reminded her, beginning to rub circles into her palm with his thumb. “No caffeine. Besides, you hate decaf.”

Éponine could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes all over again at the thought of not being able to drink coffee for another nine months or so, and she silently scolded herself for being so emotional. “Damn hormones,” she muttered hotly under her breath, wiping away a tear with her blanket.

“Your appointment is today,” Enjolras gently reminded her, giving her hand another encouraging squeeze. “It’s scheduled for one o’clock this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Éponine nodded in confirmation, her voice faint as she murmured almost inaudibly, “Yeah. So when do you think we should tell the others?”

“I’m not particularly happy about that,” Enjolras admitted truthfully, grimacing, “but I suppose we’ll have to at one point, and better sooner than later. They’re bound to ask questions if they see you when you start to show and we haven’t told them. You decide when to tell them,” he told her, squeezing her hand. “You’re the one carrying the child, after all.”

“Okay.” Éponine went back to staring off into space, feeling rather numb and empty as she thought about how the rest of the Amis might think. She desperately didn’t want to lose her friendships with them, having found solace in the café they frequented and having come to consider them her family, and she most certainly didn’t want to disappoint them all because of a single accident. It also didn’t help that she was beginning to get over her stupid crushes on stupid Marius and stupid Cosette and her current thoughts of what they would think were beginning to bring her back to the times in which she stressed out over every single little thing she did so not to potentially upset them. That was a lost fucking cause now, since the two of them were engaged and getting married soon, and she had figured that she would just get the fuck over it and move on until the baby came along and she began to think about what the hell everyone else would think. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose her friends, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to handle losing all of the most important people in her life.

“Éponine?” The sound of Enjolras’ voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned to look at him, a mildly surprised look on her face. He squeezed her hand yet again as he asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

Éponine shook her head, almost too quickly for Enjolras’ liking. “It’s nothing, ’Jolras. I’m fine.” Taking a deep breath, she finished her orange juice, setting the empty glass back down on the tray and exhaling. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Enjolras questioned as he took the tray from her to place on top of her dresser for him to take back to the kitchen later on.

“For—” Éponine hesitated, desperately wracking her mind for the right words. After a long pause, she said at last, “Everything.”

Enjolras placed his hand over hers, stroking it gently. “’Ponine, did you really think I was just going to pick up and leave?” When she sheepishly nodded yes, he chuckled and told her tenderly, “’Ponine, I could _never_ be that much of an asshole. It’s my fault you’re knocked up in the first place.”

“It takes two to tango,” Éponine pointed out dryly. She knew they’d have to talk about that soon, as in seriously discuss it instead of one of them just bringing it up only for the other to change the subject almost immediately.

“Still.” Enjolras felt an odd urge to bring her hand to his lips and kiss it but he refrained from doing so, saying instead, “I would never abandon our child.”

Éponine’s breath caught in her throat at his usage of ‘our’ instead of ‘my’. Enjolras gave her another small, warm, reassuring smile as he said softly, “I would never abandon _you_ , ’Ponine. You’re my best friend.” _Although I wish we could also be something other than that,_ he found himself thinking wistfully as he gazed at this strong, beautiful, brave young woman sitting before him. The woman who was with child. _His_ child.

He didn’t want to push it, though. He knew that she still needed some time to overcome her hopeless infatuation with both Marius and Cosette, and he respected her boundaries like any decent human being would. At the thought of her still being a little bit in love with the engaged couple, however, his mind began to stray as dreadful thoughts filled his head.

_What if I’m just a rebound?_

He pushed that thought out of his mind, firmly telling himself that he was not a rebound. She had never even dated Marius or Cosette anyway, so it couldn’t be a rebound—a rather insensitive method of getting over it, maybe, but Enjolras doubted that Éponine would do such a thing. Besides, they had been completely wasted when they hooked up; neither of them remembered much of it.

“Enjolras?” Éponine pulled him out of his daze, gazing at him expectantly with her dark eyes. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he lied, giving her that fake smile he had long since mastered and momentarily forgetting that Éponine knew him far too well to be fooled by that. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out why he was acting so strange when mere moments ago he had been acting perfectly fine.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” she snapped, sounding unexpectedly harsh as she scowled at him. “What’s going on? You were acting just fine moments ago.”

 _It’s just the hormones,_ Enjolras tried to assure himself, rather taken aback by her sudden snappish attitude. “’Ponine, I swear it’s nothing,” he told her, flinching when she gave him one of her infamous death glares.

“Enjolras, tell me,” Éponine pleaded, desperate to know what had him acting so defensive all of a sudden. “Please just tell me.”

“’Ponine, I promise it’s nothing,” he tried to assure her, stroking her hand. “I don’t want to stress you out before your appointment. Maybe we can talk about it afterwards?”

Éponine sighed and leaned back against the headboard, pulling her hand away from his and crossing her arms across her chest. “Fine. After the appointment.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras swung his legs up onto the bed to sit next to Éponine in awkward silence, contemplating what to say next as he twiddled his thumbs, humming softly and frantically wracking his mind for something to say, _anything_ to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. Eventually enough, Éponine spoke once again.

“I should probably go shower,” she murmured, getting up to get out of bed. Enjolras watched her exit the room and leaned back, his head falling back against the headboard as he sighed despairingly to himself, staring down into his lap and trying to clear his mind of the million thoughts that were racing through his brain.

_What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?_

* * *

A few hours later, Éponine and Enjolras were out on the streets, making their way to the subway as Éponine desperately tried to steady her breathing. She hadn’t realised how damn scared she was for her appointment, realising for the first time that this would make everything seem so much more _real_.  It didn’t help that she was beginning to feel nauseous again, what with all the nasty smells of the subway, feeling the sudden urge to throw up again as they got on a train, which was, unfortunately, pretty packed. Enjolras managed to find Éponine a seat, forcing her to sit down as he towered above her, firmly grasping a grab handle to keep himself balanced as the train moved along.

“’Jolras, I’m _fine_ ,” Éponine insisted, forcing herself to take several deep breaths. Éponine Amélie Thénardier was _not_ going to throw up on this train. “I’m not _dying_.”

“Just sit down, ’Ponine,” Enjolras told her sternly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re… you know.”

Éponine grumbled and reluctantly did as she was told, leaning back in her seat and taking deep breaths to calm herself and keep herself from vomiting. _It’s fine. Everything will be fine. ’Jolras is still here. Everything is fine._

After seven stops, they got off the train, and a particularly awful smell that made Éponine feel incredibly nauseous sent her running to the nearest trash can as she felt the bile rising up in her throat. Enjolras rushed over to her, pulling her hair back as she retched and vomited into the trash can, all of the contents of her breakfast coming back up again. Tears blurred her vision and leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she threw up, clutching her stomach and heaving as Enjolras held her hair back, rubbing circles into her back. She had witnessed many people doing exactly this over the years—she never expected that she’d end up becoming one of them.

She was acutely aware of how she was beginning to attract curious, rather patronising looks and stares from people passing by, and she could hear Enjolras chiding the strangers giving them looks, “Move along, nothing to see here…”

Once she had emptied her stomach of her breakfast, she stood back up once again, still feeling rather nauseous and lightheaded. Enjolras helped steady her, linking his arm with hers as she stumbled on her feet, her head spinning. “Are you okay?” he asked in concern, his voice soft.

“I think so,” she replied quietly, groaning almost inaudibly as her hand went to her stomach.

The pair were soon back out in the streets of New York, walking a few blocks to the doctor’s office from the subway station, the sense of dread inside Éponine growing even stronger with each step she took. It was fucking freezing, being December, and everyone knew that winter in New York was nothing short of a living nightmare. Enjolras had made her put on a lot of layers before the left the apartment, telling her that she shouldn’t be catching a chill in her state, and looking back on it now, he had been quite right—it was absolutely frigid. Their arms were linked as they walked down the sidewalks, Enjolras helping to keep Éponine balanced, and soon enough, they arrived at the doctor’s office and the tension between them had melted almost entirely, although Éponine was still going to hold him to his promise and have him spit out whatever had been on his mind earlier that morning so they could properly talk about it.

After Éponine had checked in by filling out a form full of the basics—name, date of birth, medical history, all that—the pair soon found themselves sitting in a waiting room full of parenting-related shit—posters, magazines, pamphlets, the whole shebang. Picking a magazine up and looking at it now, Éponine realised just how unprepared she was, unprepared for her life to turn completely upside down and change forever. _At least I still have Enjolras around,_ she thought gratefully, knowing that she was lucky to have the father of her baby sticking around. She had heard of too many cases of asshole boyfriends leaving when they found out they had impregnated their partner, and she was eternally grateful that that hadn’t been the case with Enjolras. She had received many vaguely judgmental looks from the other women in the waiting room, and honestly, she couldn’t blame them—they all seemed to be somewhere between their late twenties and early thirties, with the exception of a frightened teenage girl who seemed to be around the age of sixteen sitting with her severe-looking mother, while Éponine herself was barely out of college and just getting her life sorted out after having managed to land a job as a high school art teacher through some sort of miracle. It didn’t help that she was rather short and looked eighteen instead of twenty-three, hence the older women’s reproachful looks. Éponine made eye contact with the teenage girl and gave her the tiniest hint of a smile, rather saddened by how scared and tearful she appeared to be. The girl wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her hoodie and feebly smiled back.

Éponine didn’t realise that she had been trembling uncontrollably before Enjolras took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Everything will be fine, ’Ponine,” he promised her quietly in an attempt to calm her nerves, taking her chin in his other hand and lifting her head up so his bright, gentle blue eyes would be looking straight into her brown. “I promise.”

Éponine feebly smiled back at him, about to open her mouth to say something before she heard her name being called.

“Éponine Thénardier.”

She looked up to see a tiny, kindly-looking nurse who seemed just a few years older than them standing in a doorway, smiling at her. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time she managed to stand up completely, Enjolras getting to his feet as well, and she struggled to steady her breathing. The pair headed over to the nurse, who smiled up at the two of them and greeted warmly, “Hi, Éponine! Follow me. I’m Alison; I’ll be taking your vitals before Dr. Bourrienne examines you.”

Alison led the two of them into a small room, where she took Éponine’s height and weight, and the brunette soon found herself scowling when Enjolras chuckled slightly at her height. “You know I’m sensitive about that,” she hissed, glaring at him with as much intensity as she could muster.

“Cosette and Musichetta and your sister are still smaller than you, ’Ponine,” Enjolras reminded her in an attempt to cheer her up as Alison handed Éponine a small cup. “There’s that, right?”

“But everyone else is taller! Hell, my own little brother is taller than me now! That shit should be illegal!” she whined, pouting at Enjolras, who found it ridiculously endearing. Alison laughed at their banter as Éponine gave her full attention back to the nurse, listening attentively for what she was supposed to do next.

“You’ll need to do a quick urine test before we go into the exam room,” the nurse told her, giving her an encouraging smile as Éponine gulped nervously.

She left without a word to head to the bathroom, managing not to pee on her fingers for once, and she placed her cup where she was told to do so before washing her hands and heading to the hall to meet Enjolras and Alison. The nurse took them to an exam room, where Éponine hopped up on the exam table with Enjolras standing right beside her as Alison told Éponine, “Okay, Éponine, I’m going to have to draw a blood sample. Is that okay with you?”

Éponine sighed, replying, “Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Fine, please just get this over with.” She stuck out her arm, biting her lip as Alison took out the syringe to get it all sterilised and ready.

Alison smiled rather regretfully, telling her, “I promise you it won’t take long, and you have this lovely gentleman here to hold your hand!”

Éponine grabbed Enjolras’ left hand with her right automatically and wound her fingers tightly through his, squeezing her eyes shut as Alison prepared Éponine’s arm for the taking of the blood sample. Enjolras squeezed her hand reassuringly as the blood was drawn, and once it was all over, Alison said cheerfully as she patched Éponine up, “Now that wasn't so bad, was it? You did great, Éponine. I’ll take this now; Dr. Bourrienne will be with you in a few minutes.”

The nurse left the room, leaving Éponine and Enjolras alone together in that exam room. The pair fell into an awkward silence as Éponine observed her surroundings—diagrams, posters, and models depicting pregnancy were all around her, and she felt even more anxious than she had been before. Enjolras squeezed her hand, and she realised she hadn’t let go of his hand ever since before the blood sample was drawn, and without thinking, she tugged him into a hug, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and burying her face in his chest as he readily hugged her back. She looked up and met his eyes, biting her lip.

“I’m scared, ’Jolras,” she told him in a small voice.

“I know, ’Ponine. I am too,” he admitted, sighing as he rubbed circles into her back, hugging her in reassurance. “But I promise everything will be okay. I’ll make sure of that.”

He pulled back and took her hand in his once again as she looked around the room, growing even more nervous with each passing moment. She was apprehensively toying with the corner of the paper that covered the exam table when she and Enjolras heard a knock at the door. Her heartbeat quickened as a rather small Asian woman Éponine assumed was the doctor walked in.

“Hello, Miss Thénardier,” the doctor greeted amiably, holding her hand out for both Éponine and Enjolras to shake. Éponine let go of Enjolras’ hand to briefly shake the doctor’s, taking his hand once again when she was done. “I’m Dr. Adelyn Bourrienne.”

“Please just call me Éponine,” the brunette requested, managing to keep her tone light despite the flurry of emotions that were running through her at that very moment. “‘Miss Thénardier’ is weird enough when I’m being called that by high school students.” Truth be told, most of them just called her Miss T, but whenever someone was able to pronounce it, they would call her Miss Thénardier.

“Well, Éponine it is,” Dr. Bourrienne chuckled, sitting down and opening up the laptop she had brought in with her. After examining whatever was on the screen, she finally said, “Well, Éponine, based off the urine and blood tests we ran, you’re most definitely pregnant. Are you planning on carrying this baby to term?”

Éponine nodded in confirmation. “Yes, I am.” She was surprised at how confident she came out sounding, and Enjolras seemed pleasantly surprised as well, beginning to rub circles into her palm, which had become a bit of a habit for him in the past few days. Éponine found that she was beginning to find it comforting; Enjolras himself was a calming presence.

“All right. So, Éponine, according to your paperwork, you are twenty-three, correct?” When Éponine nodded yes, Dr. Bourrienne continued, “You don’t seem to have any significant medical history in your family, and you’re currently not on any medication. When was the date of your last period? It’ll help me figure out a due date.”

Éponine searched her mind, glad that she kept track of her periods well and finally replying, “The fourth of October.”

Dr. Bourrienne typed something into her computer as a look of contemplation crossed her face. After some time, the woman finally spoke. “You seem to be about seven weeks along,” Dr. Bourrienne told Éponine kindly. “You should be due sometime in early July. I’d say around the eleventh or twelfth.”

“O-okay,” Éponine stammered out, relieved beyond belief that she’d be on break due to the students’ summer vacation. _I won’t be missing a lot of work._

Dr. Bourrienne looked back and forth between Enjolras and Éponine, her gaze falling to their clasped hands, and she questioned rather tentatively, “If you don’t mind me asking, is this the father?”

Enjolras smiled and nodded sheepishly, squeezing Éponine’s hand. “Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed, blushing pink. “Gabriel Enjolras, but almost everyone calls me Enjolras. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Enjolras,” Dr. Bourrienne responded graciously, nodding at the golden-haired man. Turning her attention back to Éponine, she asked, “So, Éponine, how long do your periods usually last? Are they regular?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her free hand still fidgeting with the edge of the paper on the exam table. “I’m barely ever late, and it almost always lasts five days. I had been vomiting for eight days in a row before I realised I had skipped a period.”

“Ah, yes, the morning sickness.” Dr. Bourrienne hummed to herself as she typed away on her laptop, adding more information to Éponine’s file.

“It’s not just in the mornings, though,” Éponine went on, beginning to swing her legs over the edge in an attempt to calm her nerves. “I’ve barely been able to keep anything down in the past couple of weeks.”

Dr. Bourrienne stopped typing and turned back to Éponine, informing her kindly, “Well, they all call it morning sickness, but really, it’s more of an anytime sickness.” She chuckled when Éponine made a face at that unfortunate information, saying, “Yes, I know it sucks, but unfortunately, that’s the case with most pregnant people. What are your other symptoms?”

“I’ve been having headaches and cramps,” Éponine replied candidly, watching as Dr. Bourrienne typed all this information onto her computer. “Oh, and lately I’ve been particularly sensitive to certain smells and my boobs have been feeling pretty sore for a while now.”

Dr. Bourrienne leaned back in her seat, reading over the new information she had just added. “Any previous pregnancies or STD’s?” she questioned.

Éponine shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort,” she replied quickly, relaxing a bit more when she felt Enjolras continue to rub circles into her palm.

“I know of your medical history, Éponine, but what about you, Enjolras?” Dr. Bourrienne was directly addressing the golden-haired man now, catching him off-guard. He considered his answer for quite a while before actually responding.

“I don’t have any significant diseases in my family,” Enjolras replied at last. Dr. Bourrienne began to hum again as she typed all of this up before continuing to talk with the pair.

“Any history of substance abuse?” Dr. Bourrienne prompted. “Do you smoke?”

“No, I don’t smoke, and I haven’t drank in a long time,” Éponine replied, exchanging a look with Enjolras and seeing how he blushed. More accurately, she hadn’t drunk since the night this fucking baby was conceived. “Obviously I can’t anymore.”

“Good to hear.” Dr. Bourrienne finished up her typing and turned back to face Éponine and Enjolras, smiling brightly at the both of them. “Now, Éponine, I would recommend prenatal vitamins and lots of rest, and I’ll make sure to give you a list of foods to avoid and any symptoms that require immediate attention. Do try to keep your stress levels at a minimum—poor emotional health could be just as harmful to the baby as physical, so you need to be very careful.”

Éponine gulped and nodded, that nervous feeling flooding back into her system just like that. Dr. Bourrienne examined the file on her computer once again and finally clicked her tongue in satisfaction.

“Everything seems to be in place, Éponine! I’d like to do an ultrasound today, if that’s okay with you,” Dr. Bourrienne told her, smiling widely at the young woman and her companion.

Éponine’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t expect that she’d be having an ultrasound _today_. She found herself stammering out, “S-sure, okay? Why—why not?”

Dr. Bourrienne gave her a gentle smile as she instructed Éponine to lie down and pull her shirt up so her stomach would be exposed. “Could you please unbutton your pants too?” the older woman requested lightly. Éponine did as she was told, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down just slightly until Dr. Bourrienne nodded in approval. Throughout it all, Enjolras was still standing beside her, still rubbing circles into her palm as he felt his heart speed up at the thought of hearing his child’s heartbeat. _Their_ child’s heartbeat.

“This will be cold,” Dr. Bourrienne warned as she spread the lubricating gel over Éponine’s stomach, pulling the screen monitor out so Éponine and Enjolras could see. Éponine tried not to squirm at the feeling of the transducer in the doctor’s hand gliding over her stomach, her eyes glued to the screen. Within moments, an image of black and white blobs appeared on the screen and Éponine had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to be looking at before Dr. Bourrienne pointed at one specific blob on the screen, saying, “That’s your baby right there, Éponine, Enjolras.”

“Oh, my God,” Éponine whispered, feeling tears forming in her eyes at the sight. “It looks like a little peanut.”

“It’s our little peanut, ’Ponine,” Enjolras murmured in awe, willing himself not to cry. It was like magic. (Had Combeferre been there, he would’ve specified that it was, in fact, sound waves, but Enjolras didn’t want to think about that right now, focusing instead on the image of his and Éponine’s little blob of a baby on the screen.)

Dr. Bourrienne smiled at the looks of awe on their faces and told them, “I can confirm that you’re due around July eleventh. I could have some pictures printed out for you, if you’d like.” Éponine and Enjolras both eagerly nodded yes, and Dr. Bourrienne chuckled at their enthusiasm. “Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

“Oh, God, yes, please,” Éponine answered instantly, overcome with emotion as she gazed at the image of her little peanut on the screen. There was a real live baby growing inside her, half her and half Enjolras. It was too much to process all at once.

Dr. Bourrienne took out a doppler and ran it all over Éponine’s stomach, and her breath caught in her throat when she heard what sounded like a horse’s gallop filling the room. “That’s the heartbeat?” she asked, holding her breath as she listened in awe.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat right there,” Dr. Bourrienne confirmed, smiling at the looks of wonder on both Éponine and Enjolras’ faces. Éponine glanced up at Enjolras and let out an incredulous laugh.

“’Jolras, are you _crying_?” she questioned in disbelief, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle her oncoming laughter at the sight of tears leaking out of the corners of the oh so stoic Enjolras’ blue eyes. He hastily tried to wipe them away but more kept coming, and eventually he just gave up on trying to hide them, letting the tears flow freely, rather overwhelmed by the fact that he and Éponine had made a tiny human being that was growing inside her.

“’Ponine, that’s our baby in there!” Enjolras replied, defending himself from her playfully judgmental stare. “How can you expect me to hear our child’s heartbeat and not cry?”

Éponine merely laughed some more and swatted at his arm as he cried even more, causing Dr. Bourrienne to chuckle softly at their playful banter as she thought about what a lovely couple they made, completely unaware that they weren’t a couple at all.

“Everything seems just fantastic, Éponine,” Dr. Bourrienne told her, handing the young woman some paper towels to clean up the gel. Once Éponine had buttoned her pants and sat back up, Dr. Bourrienne continued, “The baby seems perfectly healthy, and the heart rate is great. I’d like to see you again about a month from now—does January fifth at five in the afternoon work?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Éponine replied, fixing her clothes as she paid close attention to the doctor.

“Well, I suppose that’s it for this appointment, then!” Éponine hopped off the exam table, shaking Dr. Bourrienne’s hand once again. “You did just great, Éponine.”

The doctor escorted them back to the front desk, where Éponine received her prenatal vitamins and numerous copies of the ultrasound photos. She put everything in her purse, thanking the doctor profusely. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bourrienne,” Éponine told her, trying to convey every single emotion that was running through her at that very moment through the massive smile on her face.

“You’re very welcome, Éponine,” Dr. Bourrienne responded, a kind smile on her face. “If you have any questions or concerns in regards to the pregnancy, don’t hesitate to give me a call. My information is on the card.” She shook Éponine’s hand one last time before leaving to see her next patient, and Éponine and Enjolras bundled themselves up in their coats again before stepping out into the frigid winter air.

Much to Enjolras’ surprise, Éponine pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. “Thank you so much, ’Jolras, for everything; I don’t know what I’d do without you and you’re the best and thank you so much for staying no matter what and you’re the most amazing best friend slash baby daddy I could ever ask for,” she mumbled all in one breath, breathing in the tangy scent of his cologne. Enjolras barely caught what she said.

“I’ll always be here for you, ’Ponine,” he replied, returning the hug and stroking her hair as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “And now I’ll always be here for our little peanut as well.”

Enjolras could practically feel her smile against his chest and the corners of his mouth turned up, his heart soaring. He desperately wished he could say the three words he longed to say the most, but firmly decided against it. Instead, he pulled away from the hug, linking his arm through hers again.

“Shall we go?” he asked, giving her that same sunshine smile that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like everything would be all right again.

Éponine grinned back at him. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: Angst™ and brief sexual content in italics at the beginning of the chapter

* * *

_“Oh, ’Jolras—” A squeal escaped Éponine’s lips as Enjolras firmly grasped her hips, pounding into her at a furious, unrelenting pace, driving her into the bed and making her scream his name. Sweat covered the both of them as he thrust into her relentlessly, moving upwards and brushing her clit, nearly making her lose her mind, his damp golden curls falling into his face as strangled groans of her name fell from his lips. She raked her nails down his back, frantically rolling her hips against his out of desperation for more friction, and another hard thrust had her shrieking his name once again. “Oh,_ Enjolras _!”_

 _“Oh, God, ’Ponine—” He leaned down until his lips met hers in a furious, passionate kiss as he continued to thrust furiously into her, his large hands grasping her hips hard enough to bruise. He revelled in the sounds of her muffled moans, kissing her madly, desperately, never wanting this moment to end. Éponine eagerly kissed him back, their tongues entwining in their mouths as her screams were muffled by his lips while he pounded into her, leaving her breathless and begging for more. His large hands traced her beautiful curves, feeling the soft, bare skin beneath his fingers as his desperate moans of her name against her lips increased in volume. “_ Éponine _—”_

 _He pulled back to gaze into her eyes as she moved with him, the sounds of her squeals and shrieks and screams being almost too much to bear. “_ Harder _, ’Jolras!” she begged, her nails digging into his back as he continued to pound into her even harder than before, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration momentarily before opening them again to gaze into her eyes. He thought she looked absolutely stunning like this—naked and vulnerable and completely drenched with sweat, her hair fanned out against the pillows, breathless and beautiful and falling apart at the seams, all because of him. With one particularly hard thrust, she screamed out his name in her euphoria once more before clenching around him and squeezing him like a vice before she went limp beneath him, spots of white light dancing behind her eyes as she came hard. She pulled him back down for another kiss, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss as he finally lost control, a low, strangled, drawn-out groan of her name falling from his lips as he spilled into her, his movements faltering as he went limp on top of her, the both of them breathing heavily.  His lips met hers in another kiss, slow and sensuous and passionate, and once they had broken apart and he had pulled out of her, he pulled her close so her head would be laying on his chest, whispering into her ear, “Éponine, I love you.”_

Enjolras was jolted awake, droplets of sweat beading his forehead as his blue eyes shot open. He had one hand wrapped around his painful erection, vivid images from his dream flashing through his mind and making him sweat profusely, and his head fell back against the pillows as he sighed, looking sideways at the alarm clock. It was still three in the fucking morning.

Well. It seemed like he’d be spending some time getting himself off before going back to bed.

Once he had dealt with _that_ , he let go of his manhood with one final groan, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling as he tried to remember his dream. That definitely hadn’t been the first graphic dream he had had about her—on the contrary, she was a guest in his dreams on a regular basis, naughty or otherwise—but this time, something seemed rather off. It seemed different; more vivid, somehow. More _real_.

And that’s when he realised that the dream was what little he remembered from his alcohol-induced daze. The night of his birthday.

The night the baby was conceived.

He groaned audibly to himself, his hand flying up to cover his face in complete and utter regret as he thought about how he had told her that he loved her right after they had sex. He sincerely hoped that she didn’t remember any of that, and if she did, well… He’d have to make up some excuse about being too delirious to realise what he was saying in his post-sex haze. She just couldn’t know that he was in love with her. That would ruin everything.

It was about a week after her first appointment, and thankfully enough, Éponine was on break due to her students being on Christmas break, and Enjolras contemplated getting up to talk to her before deciding against it, knowing that she needed a lot of rest in her state. He merely contented himself by lying on his back in his four-poster bed, staring up at the ceiling as a million thoughts zipped through his mind.

When he was unable to fall back asleep, he got up and walked over to the bookshelf framing his tiny bay window and sat down in the window with a few of the parenting-related books he had bought on a whim after Éponine’s first appointment. Snow was drifting past the window outside as he picked up the book of baby names Courfeyrac had bought for him as a joke a couple of years ago, and Enjolras couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Who would have known that it might actually come in handy one day?

He had been using one of the ultrasound photos as a bookmark and he took it out of the book he had been reading to examine it again, almost unaware of how his lips curved into a soft smile as he gazed at the little blob that was his and Éponine’s child. They had nicknamed the baby Peanut, not wanting to refer to their child as “it” all the time, and looking at the blob that was Peanut now, Enjolras felt an overwhelming wave of emotion hit him at the thought of becoming a father.

Shit. He was only just processing it now.

He was going to be a _father_.

This was absolutely insane. He was only twenty-four, barely out of law school, and he was going to be a _father_.

He began to picture what Peanut would look like once they were born, thinking of a little baby with his eyes and Éponine’s hair. Or her eyes and his hair? Or maybe Peanut would have his hair and his eyes and her dimples, or her hair and her eyes and his smile. So many possibilities…

He put the photo down and hugged his knees, gazing out the window at the snow drifting past in the dark. White patches had begun to pile up on the streets and Enjolras smiled to himself, knowing that it’ll be mere hours before the pretty, soft white snow would be reduced to nothing but dirty, wet grey slush, so he took time to take it all in, appreciating the sight of a New York winter wonderland.

 _What the hell am I supposed to do?_ he wondered, trying to figure out how he was going to respond when Éponine finally confronted him about keeping things from her. _Do I just ask her flat-out if I was a rebound? Jesus Christ, what if she says yes?_

He wondered what he would do if she did say yes.

He didn’t quite realise how long he had been lost in thought until Éponine silently crept into his bedroom just as the early morning sun was beginning to rise behind the buildings and skyscrapers in the distance. He turned his head at the faint sound of her footsteps on his carpet and found her approaching him at the bay window, dressed in sleep shorts and one of the countless hoodies she had stolen from him, which looked absolutely enormous on her small, slim body. “Hey,” she greeted quietly, taking a seat across from him in the bay window and pressing a hand to the glass, pulling back immediately at the cold that met her palm.

“Hey,” he murmured in reply, his voice higher and softer than usual.

“How long have you been up?” she asked, crossing her legs as she tried to catch his eye upon noticing how he was avoiding eye contact, cocking her head. After avoiding her gaze for quite some time, he finally looked up, blue eyes meeting brown.

“A few hours now,” he replied truthfully, fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt. “What’s up?”

“I think we should stop putting it off,” Éponine told him matter-of-factly, wasting no time in being straightforward. “We _need_ to talk about that night, ’Jolras.”

“Yes, of course,” Enjolras replied hastily, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he gestured for her to go on. “What did you want to talk about, ’Ponine?”

Éponine hesitated, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, at a loss for words. At last, she asked, “Do you remember _anything_ from that night, ’Jolras?” She thought she had some vague recollections of bits and pieces of the incident, but due to having been drunk off her ass at the time, she wasn’t quite sure what to believe anymore. It could just be her mind playing tricks on her.

“I, uh, um—I do remember some of it,” Enjolras responded, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to calm his nerves as he avoided eye contact. “Before you ask me about that, can I ask you something first?”

Éponine raised her eyebrows in surprise, but nodded. “Go ahead.”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Enjolras managed to spit out all in one breath, “Are you still in love with Marius and Cosette and did you only sleep with me because you were trying to get over them?”

“ _What?_ ” Éponine didn’t quite catch what he was saying, blinking blankly at him.

 _Damn it, Enjolras!_ Composing himself, he tried again, “’Ponine, do you still love them?”

She was still staring at him with that blank look on her face. “’Jolras, what the _hell_ are you talking about?”

He took her hand in his, finally looking up so his piercing blue eyes would be gazing pointedly into her brown as he asked with a strange sense of urgency, “Éponine, do you—do you still love them?”

“Who the fuck is _them_?” Éponine asked, a look of confusion and slight anger in her dark eyes as she stared at him incredulously.

“Marius and Cosette,” Enjolras replied, biting his lip.

Éponine’s face grew hot at his question, and she was at a loss for words once again as she tried to come up with an appropriate answer to that. Eventually, she just burst out, “ _No_ , Enjolras! Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I just—it seemed—” Enjolras faltered, feeling like he could kick himself for even asking in the first place, beginning to regret everything that had just spilled out of his mouth. “It just seemed like you were kind of nervous about what they’ll think of you when they find out you’re pregnant!”

“I’m scared about what _all_ of our friends—and my siblings—will think,” she corrected him sharply, her tone rather icy as she pulled her hand away. “It’s not just them.”

“I don’t want to push it, but please, ’Ponine, but I need to know!” In complete despair, he continued to try to explain, “Éponine, I need to know if I was just a rebound to you or if it meant something more than that.”

He waited as Éponine opened her mouth to respond defensively before closing it again, rendered completely speechless by his words. When she couldn’t seem to come up with an answer, his heart shattered into a million pieces, and he scooted back until his back was pressed up against the wall, a look of absolute hurt in his blue eyes.

“So I was just a rebound to you, wasn’t I?” he said in a low voice, struggling to keep his voice even. Éponine let out a funny little noise, caught off-guard by the entire thing.

“ _No!_ ’Jolras, I—” She stopped short, simply unable to come up with the answer she supposed he wanted to hear, so instead she changed the subject entirely. “I remember one thing you said. The night it all happened.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he desperately hoped it wasn’t what he thought she was talking about. “What?”

“You told me that you loved me.” Éponine’s voice was completely flat. “Did you mean that?”

Now it was Enjolras’ turn to be rendered speechless, and he made a series of incredulous sputtering noises, finding that he was currently incapable of forming a coherent sentence as he desperately tried to come up with an answer, managing to stammer out at last, “Éponine, I—I was completely drunk. We both were. And we had—we had both just… you know, done the deed, I don’t think either of us were in our right minds. You—you know how people tend to say things—things they don’t—they don’t mean when they’re drunk, it was—it was probably just—just the alcohol talking—”

“So you didn’t mean it.” Éponine stood up, fighting back tears, not wanting Enjolras to see her cry because of him. She didn’t know why, but the thought of him not meaning what he had so lovingly whispered to her in the dead of the night hurt far more than she could bear, and she felt like her heart was breaking into pieces as she muttered, “Well, at least you were honest with me.”

“Éponine, no, that’s not what I meant—!” Enjolras’ voice cracked as Éponine backed away and reached the door, grasping around for the doorknob as she looked back at him, her vision blurred by the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Enjolras, I just need some time alone,” she told him, her voice breaking on the last word as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She furiously wiped it away, angry at him and at herself and at the world, as she muttered, “I’m going to go see my sister. I’ll see you later.”

Enjolras was left to stare after her as she shut the door behind her, leaving him just sitting there with a look of utter despair on his face, distressed and heartbroken. Tears stung his eyes as all six feet of him curled up into a little ball in the bay window, and he buried his face in his knees, beginning to sob.

_I fucked up. I ruined everything._

* * *

Enjolras had been wandering aimlessly around the apartment, draped in a huge wine-red wool blanket and wearing nothing but shorts and a T-shirt underneath, for God knows how long when the doorbell rang, and he sighed and pulled himself together just long enough to answer the door, shivering at the gust of freezing cold air that came rushing in when he opened the door. Combeferre was standing there, all wrapped up for the winter as snow fell in copious amounts behind him, a look of concern on his face at the sight of the despondent state Enjolras was in. The first words that came out of the bespectacled man’s mouth were “God, you look like hell.”

“Good day to you too, ’Ferre,” Enjolras replied wryly.

The golden-haired man dispiritedly let Combeferre in, going back to slouch down on the couch, wrapped up in his blanket as the other man took off his layers, and Combeferre soon joined Enjolras on the couch, looking at him in worry. “Enjolras, none of us have heard from you in days,” Combeferre stated carefully as Enjolras wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, turning away. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks,” Enjolras replied dully, unable to find it within himself to even pretend to be sarcastic. “Let me just say I’ve had a really shit day so far.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Combeferre asked, scooting closer to the blond. Enjolras automatically shook his head no, hiding his face from view. Combeferre let out a discouraged sigh and stood up. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, I’m going to get you something to eat,” he told the other man firmly, going off to the kitchen. “You don’t look like you’ve eaten anything today.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” Enjolras muttered mostly to himself as he buried his face in the couch cushions.

Combeferre trudged into the kitchen to scan the counter for any leftovers that might be there, and when he failed to find any, he turned to the fridge, about to open the door when he stopped short at the sight of an ultrasound photo on the refrigerator door.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre called out, the shock registering on his face as he gaped at the photograph on the fridge.

“What?” Enjolras shouted back, sounding rather short-tempered and grumpy, his voice muffled by the couch cushions. After standing for a few moments in the front of the fridge, evidently waiting for Enjolras to appear, Combeferre took down the photo when Enjolras failed to make an appearance and marched back to the living room to confront the other man.

“Enjolras.” When the golden-haired man looked up at the sound of his name with his bottom lip stuck out petulantly, much like a child, Combeferre held up the ultrasound photo and could literally see how Enjolras visibly paled, actually turning _white_.

_Fuck. Shit! Fuck!_

Combeferre held out the photograph for Enjolras to see, questioning mildly, “May I ask what this is?”

Enjolras groaned and buried his face in the couch cushions once more, his voice thick and muffled as he said rapidly all in a single breath, “Éponine and I had sex on my birthday because you assholes got me drunk and I guess she and I forgot protection because now she’s knocked up because of me and she’s keeping the baby and I’m going to support her no matter what, but now I’m not sure what’s going to happen to us since this morning I accused her of using me as a rebound from Marius and Cosette because I’m the biggest fucking idiot in this miserable universe and then she told me that she remembered how I told her that I loved her right after we slept together, so of course my piece of shit brain had to go and make up some shitty excuse about how it was the alcohol talking and I think she took it the wrong way because she ran off crying and now she’s not here and she’s at her sister’s place and what the fuck will I do, ’Ferre?” Enjolras sat up, his vision blurred with tears as Combeferre took a seat next to him. He tried to wipe away his tears, having never cried in front of any of his friends before, but more kept coming. “I majorly fucked up. I fucked up so much. Now she’ll think I don’t have any feelings for her and—” He broke down crying, burying his face in his hands as he shook with noiseless sobs, wracked with guilt and shame and anger at himself.

Combeferre reached out to rub Enjolras’ back, alarmed at the sight of how distressed the blond was. In all the sixteen years he had known Enjolras, Combeferre had never seen him so upset. Hell, he had never even seen Enjolras, infamous for his reputation as the marble man,  _cry_ up until today, which immediately told him that something was definitely wrong.

“Slow down,” Combeferre told him soothingly, rubbing Enjolras’ back in reassurance as the other man cried his eyes out, his blue eyes rather puffy and red-rimmed. “Take a deep breath. There we go. Now, can you please explain everything to me again, more slowly this time?”

Enjolras did as he was told, taking several long, deep breaths to cool his head as Combeferre gently grasped his shoulders. Once he had calmed himself down enough, Enjolras asked, “Remember my birthday?”

Combeferre nodded, trying hard not to smile at the memory of Enjolras drunkenly singing karaoke, swaying back and forth as he grasped the mic stand. Enjolras continued, “Well, Courf and R were being the little shits they are and kept refilling my bottle of whiskey, so I ended up getting seriously fucking drunk that night. ’Ponine was pretty wasted as well, and when we got home, somehow she and I just ended up making out and then one thing led to another and… yeah.” It felt too awkward to actually say it out loud.

“You two had sex,” Combeferre prompted. Enjolras nodded sheepishly, turning scarlet.

“Apparently she and I forgot to use protection,” Enjolras mumbled, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Because now she’s all knocked up because of me.”

“And she’s keeping the baby?” Combeferre enquired, still rubbing Enjolras’ back.

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah, she is,” he replied, his voice quiet and rather shaky. “I’m not going to be an asshole and just leave her like that. I’m her best friend and her roommate and now I’m the father of her baby, and I would never even dream of abandoning her and Peanut.”

“Peanut?” Combeferre asked, cocking his head curiously.

“It’s what we call the baby,” Enjolras explained, feeling a tug at his heartstrings as more tears pricked his eyes. Was there even a ‘we’ anymore after all that happened that morning? “Because they look like a tiny little peanut.”

“Ah, got it.” Combeferre stole a glance at the ultrasound photo as Enjolras continued to explain everything.

“I’d never abandon her,” he murmured again, staring off into space in defeat. “I could never do that to her, she’s my best friend, and she and I _live_ together on top of all that. I—” He cut himself off, too terrified of saying it after letting it slip when he and Éponine slept together and proceeding to fuck everything up because he had said that.

Combeferre’s eyes went soft. “You love her, don’t you?”

Enjolras broke down crying again, nodding in despair, and Combeferre pulled him into a tight embrace, just holding him as he fell apart in his arms, sobbing and struggling to catch his breath and mumbling incoherent words about how much of a fuck-up he was. Combeferre held him tight, never having seen Enjolras in such a vulnerable state before and rocking back and forth just slightly as he wept, distraught and furious at himself for fucking things up so much. Once he had run out of tears, Enjolras sat back up, his blue eyes bloodshot and empty.

“She and I talked about it this morning,” he said dully, crossing his legs as he pulled one of the throw pillows on the couch to his chest and clung to it. “I’m the biggest fucking moron in this entire damn universe and I let my stupid insecurities get to me. I accused her of using me as a rebound from Marius and Cosette.” Enjolras groaned and buried his face in the couch cushions once again, thinking about how unbelievably _stupid_ he had been. “And then she told me that she remembered that I told her I loved her after we had sex, and she asked if I meant it, and she just _can’t_ know that I’m in love with her because that would just ruin everything even further, so I made up some idiotic excuse about it being the alcohol talking.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his unruly golden curls, which were a fucking mess just like he was at that moment. “She ended up running out crying because of that. So much for not fucking things up.”

“Have you ever thought about the possibility that she might love you too?” Combeferre suggested gently, having noticed the way Éponine sometimes looked at Enjolras whenever they were all hanging out together and she thought nobody was looking, and such a suggestion caught Enjolras off-guard. After a few moments of contemplation, he shook his head vigorously, further messing up his golden curls.

“No,” Enjolras muttered, completely defeated. He didn’t dare let himself hope that she might return his feelings, not after that morning’s incident. “She just can’t. She’s still trying to get over Marius and Cosette and I completely fucked that up by accusing her of using me as a way of getting over it. Besides, she would never love me. I don’t deserve her.” He sighed, leaning back and sinking into the couch as he stared off into space, hugging that throw pillow to his chest. Stupid feelings fucking everything up. Stupid heart running away from him and deciding that it belonged to Éponine now. Stupid brain going along with it. Stupid, stupid self going against his better judgment and falling for her.

It epically sucked. _The joys of being demi,_ he thought wryly, frowning to himself. _Only ever falling for your best friends._

He had had a bit of a thing for Feuilly a few years ago back in college, and that had been one of the most confusing times of his life as he attempted to get over it, but the irritatingly cute idiot just made it so damn hard to do so. At some point, though, Feuilly had gotten with Bahorel through a series of misadventures and Enjolras found himself eating entire tubs of ice cream while listening to the most depressing music and watching stupid generic romcoms in his attempt to get over a guy he had never even _dated_ , for fuck’s sake, and he had been endlessly teased and made fun of by Éponine because of that.

Why did his thoughts always drift back to Éponine?

Combeferre noticed how Enjolras had fallen silent and reached out for his hand. “What’s on your mind?”

“’Ponine would never love me in the way I love her,” Enjolras murmured, his voice barely audible. He readily accepted Combeferre’s hand in his, finding that he missed the warmth of someone else’s hand holding his. “She just wouldn’t.”

“Enjolras, why won’t you let yourself be happy for once?” Combeferre questioned, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice at Enjolras’ dismissive, self-pitying attitude. “She must at least like you in _some_ way. Do you think she would have slept with you if she didn’t?”

“We were both drunk off our asses,” Enjolras reminded Combeferre, his voice completely flat and toneless as he looked up to stare at the other man through dull, empty blue eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

“She must have remembered some of it,” Combeferre replied rather snappishly, taking Enjolras by surprise. Combeferre had always been the more level-headed, patient one of the two of them, and yet here he was, fed up with Enjolras’ bullshit and coming close to snapping at the golden-haired man. “And she’s willing to carry your child. _Your child_ , Enjolras! You impregnated her! Pregnancy isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. ‘I’m a med student’,” Enjolras muttered sarcastically, hugging the throw pillow to his chest yet again and averting his gaze as he pulled his hand away from Combeferre’s.

“No, you _don’t_ know,” Combeferre contradicted sharply, taking Enjolras’ chin in his hand and forcing him to look into his eyes. “Whatever hardships you’re going through are _nothing_ compared to hers, Enjolras, since she’s the one who’s actually pregnant with the damn baby. Pregnancy can be one of the hardest times in a person’s life, and it’s pretty damn painful and exhausting, from what I’ve heard. And she must feel _something_ towards you if she ran out crying after you fucked up and lied through your teeth about not meaning what you said after you slept together even though you clearly know that isn’t even remotely true.”

Enjolras winced at Combeferre’s unexpectedly harsh words, knowing full well that the other man was right and simply telling it as it is. Well, right about most of it. He still wasn’t convinced that Éponine could ever return his feelings.

“What do I do, ’Ferre?” Enjolras asked, curling up even more as he gazed at his oldest friend expectantly. “Fuck, she and I _live_ together. That’s bound to make things even more awkward than they already are.”

“She’s probably going to stay somewhere else for some time to clear her head,” Combeferre pointed out, once again kind and understanding. Really, Enjolras could never understand how Combeferre always managed to do that in a matter of seconds. “The Christmas party is at Jehan’s place this year, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Enjolras responded rather distantly, avoiding Combeferre’s gaze. None of Les Amis were religious; they simply liked the togetherness that came with Christmas, hence their annual Christmas party, which all of them took turns hosting each year. This year, it was Jehan’s turn, and Enjolras didn’t doubt that the badly dressed, ginger-haired romantic will have gone all out with decorations and food and all that shit.

“Éponine’s going to be there,” Combeferre reminded Enjolras, as if he didn’t already know. “Maybe you two can make up then.”

“Doubtful,” Enjolras denied. He knew Éponine like the back of his hand, and he knew that she would go out of her way to avoid someone when she absolutely wanted to. He was certain she would be avoiding him like the plague.

“Well, you two have to make it up sooner or later,” Combeferre told him. “You said she was going to Azelma’s, right?” When Enjolras nodded yes, Combeferre reasoned, “Well, she can’t stay at her sister’s forever, can she? You two are roommates and you’re going to be parents together, so I strongly suggest you two make it up as soon as possible and sort out whatever misunderstandings are between you two. You _have_ to tell her that you really do love her, no matter what the outcome of that may be. Unsaid feelings are the worst, unrequited or otherwise, and if you don’t tell her that you love her now, you’re going to regret it one day. She just might find someone else and forget all about you, and then your feelings for her will just rot away and you’re going to end up hating yourself for not telling her when you had the chance. You _have_ to tell her, Enjolras. You can’t let her slip away.”

“Jesus, since when did you become my mom?” Enjolras grumbled, shoving his face in the couch cushions once again. Combeferre stood up as Enjolras wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, covering his tall, broad figure up to his chin.

“Since we were eight,” Combeferre deadpanned in response. “They don’t call me the mom friend for nothing, you know.” Combeferre ruffled Enjolras’ already unkempt curls much like a parent would do with their child, and Enjolras lifted his head up to scowl at Combeferre, who merely laughed in response.

“You look like hell, Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras,” Combeferre informed him frankly, beginning to head off to the kitchen as he called over his shoulder, “I’m going to get you something to eat, since you obviously haven’t eaten anything today!”

“Sure, do that.” Enjolras hugged the throw pillow even tighter, pulling the blanket over his head as he sighed in defeat, feeling completely numb. “I’ll be here.”


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reminder: pregnant people are hormonal. hormonal people are emotional.
> 
> have some more angst :3

* * *

Éponine was shivering in her thick winter coat as she repeatedly pressed Azelma’s doorbell, not wanting to stay out in the harsh cold for longer than she needed to. Her tears were practically frozen by the time she heard the distinct voice of her sister yelling “I’M COMING! JESUS FUCK!” as she hugged herself, trembling, mostly because of the cold and partly because of what had happened with Enjolras.

Did he really think she was just using him as a rebound? Did he really not mean what he had said to her after they slept together?

 _Note to self: never, ever hook up with someone, especially one of your best friends, while drunk ever again,_ she thought bitterly, feeling more tears stinging her eyes as the door finally, _finally_ opened and she glimpsed her sister’s auburn hair and hazel eyes.

“Éponine?” The shock in Azelma’s voice was unmistakable and Éponine just couldn’t handle it anymore, bursting into sobs right there on her sister’s doorstep. Azelma grew even more alarmed and took her sister’s hand, guiding her into the little studio apartment, helping her out of her coat and sitting her down on the sofa. Tears streaked Éponine’s cheeks as Azelma asked sharply, “Éponine, what the _hell_ happened?”

“Zelma,” Éponine choked out between sobs, struggling to get the words out as she looked at her sister through a blur of tears. “Azelma—”

“Wait here.” Azelma got up to go over to the kitchen, leaving Éponine to sit there shivering and crying as she waited for her sister to finish doing whatever the fuck it was she was doing. _Azelma, why is your apartment so damn cold?_ she wondered, rubbing her hands up and down along the length of her arms in an attempt to warm herself up as she looked around at the cozy little apartment, Azelma’s bed in one corner of the entire place.

Azelma turned back around and noticed how Éponine was shivering and asked, “Are you cold?”

Éponine nodded rapidly, leading Azelma to go over to the drawer under the TV to pull out a thick wool blanket, which Éponine gratefully took, before she went back to the kitchen. Minutes later, Azelma sat back on the sofa beside her older sister, handing Éponine a mug of hot chocolate as she folded her legs underneath her, staring at her sister.

“Okay. Now, what happened?” Azelma prompted, watching as Éponine took a gulp of her hot chocolate and made a face when it burnt her tongue.

“Azelma, I—I have to—have to tell you something,” Éponine choked out, rocking back and forth and hugging her knees. “There—there’s something you—you need to know.”

Azelma raised an eyebrow, rather surprised. “Spill.”

“You’re—you’re going to hate me,” Éponine cried, setting the mug down on the coffee table and burying her face in her hands.

“Éponine, no!” Azelma placed a hand on her shaking sister’s shoulder, forcing her to look back up. “You’re my sister, Éponine. You may make me seriously want to fucking murder you sometimes, but I could never _hate_ you.”

“I seriously fucked up,” Éponine wept, tears spilling from her eyes as thoughts of Enjolras raced through her mind. “Jesus, I’m only twenty-three and my life’s already gone to shit—”

“Éponine, don’t say that.” Azelma pulled her sister into a hug, letting Éponine bury her face in her shoulder and sob, figuring that it would be better to let her older sister let it all out before trying to pry any information out of her. “Your life is _great_ for someone as young as you. You’ve got a great job and you’re financially stable enough, and you have the greatest friends anyone could ever ask for, one of whom you live with. How’s Enjolras, by the way?”

Éponine shook with renewed sobs at the mere mention of Enjolras, startling Azelma and leading her to wonder if she had said something wrong. The redhead pulled away to stare at her sister, extremely concerned at this point. “Éponine, what’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant, Azelma!” Éponine burst out, breaking down in tears again and burying her face in her hands as sobs overtook her body. Azelma’s eyes widened in surprise, completely taken aback by her sister’s unexpected outburst.

“ _What?_ ” Azelma managed to choke out after a few moments of silence, which was only broken by the sound of Éponine sobbing her eyes out. “Wait, how? _What?_ ”

Éponine lifted her face out of her hands and reached for the bag she had taken along with her when she ran out of her and Enjolras’ apartment in distress, fishing out one of the ultrasound photos to show Azelma. She took it with a complete look of bafflement and astonishment on her face, staring at the picture in disbelief, trying to process everything. “I’m eight weeks along,” Éponine mumbled, wondering what Azelma was going to say next.

“How did this happen, Éponine?” Azelma asked softly, putting down the photo on the coffee table and looking into Éponine’s eyes once again. “When?”

“I was drunk, I made a stupid, _stupid_ mistake—” She began to cry once more, tears staining her cheeks and her eyes becoming rather puffy and bloodshot. Azelma placed a hand on top of Éponine’s.

“First things first,” Azelma suggested, stroking Éponine’s hand soothingly. “Who’s the baby daddy?”

Éponine managed to half-heartedly crack a grin at Azelma’s choice of words and hesitated for several long, awful moments before confessing at last. “Enjolras.”

Azelma’s eyes widened further at this revelation, blinking in surprise. “ _Enjolras?_ How did this happen?”

Éponine laughed humourlessly and said, “Well, remember his birthday?”

Azelma nodded yes. How could anyone possibly forget how Enjolras had drunkenly sung “Shake It Off” at that karaoke bar?

“Well, he and I were both drunk as fuck,” Éponine began, taking a deep, shaky breath. “We got home and somehow we just started making out, and then one thing led to another and well… now I’m knocked up.”

“Huh.” Azelma was still too shocked by the fact that Éponine had sex with _Enjolras_ , the oh so stoic marble man, out of all people to fully grasp the situation. “If he tries to abandon you, I’m going to kick his ass, and I know everyone else will too,” Azelma told Éponine earnestly, not a hint of irony evident in her voice.

“No, he’s not going to leave,” Éponine assured her sister quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, still shivering. “He promised to stay. Besides, that’s not what I’m upset about.”

“Then what _are_ you upset about?” Azelma pressed, waiting for her sister to say something, _anything_. It worried her to no end to see her darling older sister in such distress.

“He and I avoided talking about that night for a week after the appointment,” Éponine replied dully. “We _had_ to talk about it at some point, so I finally confronted him about it this morning. He asked if I was just using him to get over Marius and Cosette.”

“Were you?” Azelma asked before she could stop herself, raising her eyebrows.

“ _No!_ ” Éponine wailed, burying her face in her hands and beginning to sob again, her whole body shaking. “Of course I wasn’t, I was drunk, I could never do that to him, I would never hurt him like that—” Her voice broke, and soon enough, the only noise in the whole apartment were the sounds of her brokenhearted sobs. Azelma was at a loss for words, trying to figure out how to console her hormonal, pregnant older sister. Éponine shook with sobs, believing that she had fucked everything up as she rocked back and forth, more tears spilling from her eyes as the sound of her quiet, heartbroken sobs filled the room. _Maybe I shouldn’t have hooked up with him in the first place,_ she thought despairingly, trying to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of her hoodie. She then realised that it was one of the hoodies she had stolen from Enjolras and began to cry all over again. The pain was absolutely unbearable.

Every little thing reminded her of him lately.

She had glimpsed a pair of blue eyes while crammed into a corner of the train on the subway and was immediately reminded of Enjolras’, and when she had rushed to a nearby trash can to throw up the moment she got off at her subway stop, she was instantly brought back to the time Enjolras had been there to hold her hair back as she puked her guts out. She found herself doing double takes on the way to Azelma’s whenever she saw someone with golden curls much like his, only to be disappointed when she saw that they were total strangers, and whenever she caught snippets of someone heatedly going on and on about politics, her mind would wander back to fond memories of Enjolras’ numerous politically-charged rants about the GOP and his often humorous social commentary. Why was he on her mind so often?

“Éponine, is that what you’re upset about?” Azelma’s voice pulled Éponine out of her little trance, and the brunette stared at her sister blankly.

“No, not exactly,” Éponine sniffled, wiping away some snot with the sleeve of Enjolras’ hoodie and making a mental note to wash it later. “I may have been drunk off my ass when I had sex with him, but I remember some things.”

Azelma’s eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline as she prompted, “And those things are…?”

Éponine took a deep, shaky breath, still reeling from what he had said that morning. At long last, she managed to say, “He—he told me that he loved me.”

Azelma leaned back on the sofa and crossed her arms across her chest, whistling in surprise. She knew that Enjolras was hopelessly, desperately in love with her sister— _everyone_ but Éponine herself knew, he wasn’t the best at hiding his feelings, that was what had led everyone to find out and proceed to make fun of him about his crush on Feuilly quite a few years ago—and she had wondered what had taken so long for him to just spit it out already. “You’re upset about _that_?” Azelma asked incredulously, a bit of a disbelieving squawk in her voice. She had not expected Éponine to react _that_ badly to what she imagined had probably been a gentle, sincere declaration of love after hot, fast, drunken sex. “Is this why you’re such a mess? Because he told you he _loved_ you?”

“It’s not that,” Éponine snapped back, making Azelma jump at her sudden irritable tone. “I asked him about that this morning and then he started saying shit about how it was the alcohol talking. I don’t know why, but it just hurts so much, Zel. It really, really hurts.” Éponine began to cry again, tears cascading down her cheeks as she made no attempt to wipe them away. “I don’t know why it hurts so much. It could just be the hormones acting up, but even so, it really hurts. You should hear the way he said it, Zel—his voice was so soft and sweet and sincere and fuck, why do I even care so much about this?” She remembered how Enjolras had taken her into his arms after they had sex, holding her tight and making her feel safe and secure as he whispered words of how perfect she was into her ear to lull her to sleep. If she had been confused about the whole Marius and Cosette ordeal, that was _nothing_ compared to what she was feeling right now. It frightened her. “I shouldn’t care this much. He’s just one of my best friends whom I made the mistake of sleeping with. That’s nothing new.”

Éponine remembered the time she somehow, _somehow_ ended up sleeping with Grantaire for reasons she no longer remembered, and it had been weird and awkward due to the fact that they had been best friends since high school, and after going down on each other, the two of them eventually just ended up lying naked together in her bed, chatting perfectly casually in the way they normally would. She had initially figured that the situation with Enjolras would be the same as that, and yet it wasn’t. She shouldn’t be so torn up about this! Was it the pregnancy hormones? Taking a deep breath, she continued in that same shaky voice, “It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn’t mean it, Zelma. It really hurt. I mean, he didn’t flat-out say that he didn’t mean it, but it was definitely implied.”

“Well, whatever he said this morning, he was lying,” Azelma replied curtly, taking Éponine by surprise at the tone of her voice. She looked up at her younger sister through watery eyes, the sight of her sister going in and out of focus.

“What—what do you mean?” Éponine stammered out, wondering what the hell Azelma was talking about.

“Oh, come off it, Éponine!” Azelma let out a somewhat derisive laugh, only succeeding in further startling Éponine. When she didn’t respond, merely giving her younger sister a blank look, Azelma snorted and burst out, “Éponine, he was obviously lying! I have no fucking idea why he would have done that, but I _know_ he was lying. I don’t know how you’ve gone this long without realising that that boy is clearly in love with you. He’s been in love with you for _years_ , and you still haven’t noticed.”

“Then why would he have said that this morning?” Éponine argued back, although there was a hint of doubt lingering in her tone.

“Can’t you see? He’s scared, Éponine!” Azelma told her shrilly, still unable to see how her older sister could be so fucking dense. “He’s scared of admitting his feelings to you because for some fucking reason, you’re _still_ into Marius _and_ his fiancée Cosette despite knowing that that’s been a lost fucking cause for a long time now. And you tend to react badly whenever someone says they love you and they actually mean it, so it’s no fucking wonder he’s scared! God, Éponine, he’s been in love with you for _so long_ now, and it took a fuckton of alcohol and sex for him to finally admit that. Don’t take that shit lightly.”

Éponine began to sob again at her sister’s overly harsh words, knowing that Azelma was right. Had she really been that oblivious? “I still don’t know why it hurts so much to think he didn’t mean what he said, though,” she said quietly, rocking back and forth.

Azelma instantly calmed down, scooting closer to Éponine and placing a hand on top of hers. “I have a hunch,” she told Éponine softly, catching her eye. When her older sister gave her a questioning look, Azelma suggested in a barely audible voice, “I think there’s a part of you that loves him back.”

Éponine fell silent, trying to process Azelma’s words, and eventually she just ended up muttering, “No. No. No. No, I don’t think so. I can’t let myself get hurt again.” Her unrequited love towards dear Marius and Cosette had caused her enough pain to last a lifetime; she didn’t think she could handle any more heartbreak. She started to cry again, rocking back and forth and hugging her knees to her chest. “I can’t love him. I just can’t. I can’t let myself get hurt again. No. I _can’t_ love him.”

“Why, Éponine?” Azelma asked, her tone gentle and giving away worry. “He loves you. He obviously loves you a lot, and he’s too scared to admit it because you tend to take these things the wrong way. I really do think deep down, somewhere, you love him back, and I’m not just saying that because you’re pregnant with his kid.”

“Peanut,” Éponine interjected feebly, rubbing her still flat abdomen. “We call the baby Peanut.”

Azelma chuckled at the idea of her sister and her best friend—who was practically her boyfriend at this point, really—calling their baby Peanut, and she commented, “That’s adorable. Anyway, I’m not just saying that because you’re pregnant with Peanut. You may not realise it, but I’ve seen the way you look at him when he isn’t looking and you think nobody else is—your whole face lights up and you have this soft little smile on your face and you look like you feel as if everything will be okay again. He’s the sun to your moon. It’s obvious that he makes you feel warm and safe and fuzzy inside.”

“Even so, I fucked things up between me and him,” Éponine pointed out, tears beginning to fill her eyes again at the thought of the hurt look on Enjolras’ face that morning. Jesus Christ, how much had she cried that day? “Things were going so well. We were so happy about Peanut, we promised to raise Peanut together, and then this shit happens. I majorly fucked up. Maybe I shouldn’t have confronted him in the first place,” she muttered, burying her face in her knees.

“No, you were right to do that,” Azelma told her in assurance as Éponine looked up again. “Relationships can’t work if you don’t communicate. Yes, you could work on _how_ you’re communicating, but at least you _are_. That’s got to be a start.”

“I’m not in a relationship with him,” Éponine reminded her sister quietly, slouching down further on the sofa as if she wanted to disappear into the cushions.

“Oh, shut up, you two are practically married,” Azelma retorted, smirking triumphantly when Éponine turned pink. “You live together and act like an old married couple, and now you two are having a fucking baby together. Do forgive me for thinking you two are basically in a relationship.”

“I’m not so sure about ‘together’ anymore,” Éponine mumbled, remembering that morning. She remembered how hurt and heartbroken he had looked and started to cry yet again, never wanting to see him that upset ever again.

“Listen, Éponine.” Azelma placed her hands on either of Éponine’s shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. “Jehan’s Christmas party is in a week or so. You’ll see Enjolras again and then maybe you two can work things out. You can’t stay at my place forever.”

“But I want to,” Éponine whined, pouting.

“Bullshit,” Azelma rebutted. “Your place is a lot nicer than mine. You just want to avoid Enjolras.”

Éponine turned and buried her face in a pillow, mumbling, “Maybe so.”

“Well, you two are going to talk at the party. I’ll make sure of it,” Azelma told her sister bluntly, standing up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get ready for a date with this cute girl from work. Wish me luck.”

“Aren’t you sleeping with Courf?” Éponine asked, looking up to see Azelma rummaging about in her closet.

“We’re taking a bit of a break,” Azelma replied, feigning nonchalance. She and Courfeyrac had had a bit of a friends-with-benefits arrangement going on between them before things got too complicated and confusing, which was around the time they had decided to take a break from each other for a while. “It was nothing serious to begin with.” And with that, Azelma disappeared into the bathroom with her arms full of clothes, undoubtedly to get ready for her date with this mystery girl.

Éponine frowned to herself. It was quite obvious to everyone that sparks flew between Azelma and Courfeyrac, but the two of them were just too damn stubborn and refused to define their overly complicated relationship with anything other than sex. _Well, things take their own time,_ she reminded herself. _They’ll come around. I hope._

After some time, Azelma came out of the bathroom, all wrapped up in cute winter gear, complete with knee-high boots. Éponine grew even more disheartened when she realised how the pregnancy would affect her, appearance-wise—even more stretch marks, an inability to shave her legs after some time, _maternity clothing_ , how she wouldn’t be able to see her feet later on and would have to ditch her sexy boots for ugly loafers…

_What have I gotten myself into?_

“Stay here for as long as you like _before_ that Christmas party rolls around,” Azelma told Éponine, taking her huge puffy coat off the coat hanger and pulling it on before gesturing to the bed in the corner, saying, “Just take my bed; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s your apartment, I wouldn’t—” Éponine tried to decline before Azelma cut her off.

“You’re taking the bed!” Azelma barked out, unusually firm. “You are pregnant, Éponine. You’re taking the bed and that’s final.”

“Well, if you say so,” Éponine mumbled as Azelma stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind her. The brunette got up, walking over to throw herself onto Azelma’s bed and lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a dispirited sigh.

_Hello, loneliness. We meet again._

* * *

_“Will you share your life with me for the next ten minutes? For the next ten minutes; we can handle that…”_

Éponine was only halfway through the movie and she was already a sobbing mess, sitting in Azelma’s bed and wrapped up in numerous blankets as she munched on buttery popcorn drizzled in ketchup while watching _The Last Five Years_. She had been ignoring her phone for hours, deleting Enjolras’ voicemails and not having the heart to read through his hundreds of texts, still trying to figure out how the hell she was going to talk to him at the party in a few days. She had skimmed through his desperate texts, not having the heart to really read them through after what happened earlier that day, and that just led to her putting her phone on silent so she wouldn’t have to check her phone every five seconds for the latest texts Enjolras had sent her way. It was nearing midnight now, and Azelma still had yet to return.

As if on cue, Azelma burst back into the apartment, her bright red hair sprinkled with snow, and she stopped short at the sight of what Éponine was eating. “What the fuck is _that_?” the younger woman asked, absolutely appalled as Éponine continued to stuff ketchup-covered popcorn into her mouth as if it was the most normal thing ever.

“Cravings,” Éponine replied simply, offering the bowl to Azelma, who immediately shook her head in disgust. Shrugging, Éponine returned to watching the movie, asking, “So how was your date?”

“Eh, it was okay, I guess.” Azelma peeled off her layers until she was left in nothing but galaxy leggings and a hoodie that looked suspiciously like one of Courfeyrac’s, and she went to sit by her sister at the edge of the bed. “She’s nice and all, but we didn’t really click, you know? She’s really cute and really nice, but personality-wise, she and I’d probably be pretty incompatible beyond a one-night stand.”

“Well, may you find someone,” Éponine snarked. Taking a sip of her water, she muttered under her breath, “Someone being Courfeyrac.”

Azelma punched Éponine in the shoulder, scowling. “I heard that, fuckface,” Azelma hissed as her older sister gave her a shit-eating grin. The redhead retorted by sticking her tongue out at the brunette and stood up. “I’m going to sleep. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You go do that,” Éponine called as Azelma went over and collapsed on the couch, grabbing a blanket off the floor to wrap herself up in. “Can you get the lights?” Azelma begrudgingly stood up to walk over to the light switch and turn the lights off. Éponine gave her sister a sweet smile. “Thanks, sis, you’re the best.”

“Good night!” Azelma announced as she curled up in a little ball on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and falling asleep almost immediately. As the movie came to an end, Éponine grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, curling up under the covers and falling into a restless sleep.

The next week was quite uneventful—Éponine hid out at Azelma’s tiny place and refused to go out at all, ordering takeout and watching movies day after day while Azelma balanced her classes and her work and went on a string of dead-end dates. Enjolras’ missed calls and unread texts were growing less and less frequent as the days passed, but every few minutes or so, a text notification would pop up or her phone would ring. Éponine was far too miserable to listen to any of the voicemails he left or even skim through his texts, choosing instead to dive underneath the covers and staunchly refuse to face the world.

After the seventh day, Azelma decided that enough was enough and decided to take matters into her own hands.

The redhead barged into the apartment late one night after her last shift and marched over to the bed, where Éponine was hiding under the covers. Azelma threw the blanket off of her sister and grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit up and get off the bed, forcing her to stand up. “Éponine, things have gotten way out of hand,” Azelma told her fiercely, waving a hand in an unfocused Éponine’s face. “You’ve hidden out here for a _week_ , you haven’t gone out of the apartment _at all_ , and you haven’t touched your phone in _days_. What the fuck are you so afraid of? Can you even imagine how much that boy has been tearing himself up over you?”

“How would _you_ know?” Éponine muttered darkly, turning around and about to crawl back into bed before Azelma forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her back around.

“I listened to one of the voicemails he left you,” Azelma told Éponine. She had just opened her mouth in protest when Azelma continued, “You should have heard his voice, Éponine. The poor guy sounded like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He sounded _miserable_ , his voice kept breaking and you could hear how he was crying when he recorded that voicemail. He’s in love with you, Éponine, and you’ve broken his fucking heart.”

“That’s not fair,” Éponine protested angrily, unable to keep the tears from sliding down her cheeks at Azelma’s words. “Azelma, shut the fuck up.”

“I’m making you go back today if it’s the last thing I do,” Azelma promised, grabbing Éponine’s clothes and shoving them at her. “Hurry up and put your fucking clothes on. You’re going back to your place tonight.”

“You could at least pretend to be a little bit nicer,” Éponine retorted bitingly as she begrudgingly pulled on her layers, scowling fiercely at Azelma. Was she really angry at her sister, though? She had been overly harsh and unforgiving over the past few days towards herself about Enjolras, recalling their night together and remembering how he had remained with her once all the sex was over, holding her in his arms and making her feel safe in his strong embrace as they fell asleep together, limbs intertwined. She was absolutely furious at herself for being such an idiot, angry at herself and at the world for allowing this to happen.

After some time, she had pulled on her clothes and was standing in front of the door, waiting for Azelma to emerge from the bathroom. Once she had, she announced briskly, “All right, let’s go.”

It was nearing midnight and there were quite a few catcallers out in the streets, and Éponine felt shivers down her spine—and not the good kind like Enjolras had given her when they slept together, either—as they yelled repulsive things at her. In the past, she would usually bite back with several cutting remarks, but they had often gotten her physically hurt and she would then come home with at least one bruise, much to Enjolras’ alarm. Now that she was pregnant and absolutely terrified of what would happen to her baby if she dared reply to the catcalls, she held her tongue, instead letting Azelma yell back at them for being disgusting excuses of human beings. Miraculously enough, they somehow made it down to the subway without Azelma getting slapped at least once, and once they boarded a near empty midnight train on the way back to Éponine and Enjolras’ place, Éponine felt like she could breathe again.

After several stops, they reached the Upper East Side, and once they were two apartments away from Éponine and Enjolras’, Azelma stopped in her tracks. “I think I’m going to leave now,” she told her sister.

Éponine then surprised Azelma by pulling her into a hug, forgetting about their argument earlier as she mumbled into her younger sister’s shoulder, “Stay safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I will,” Azelma promised her, pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek before trudging off, making her way back to the subway station. Éponine walked alone amidst the ugly grey slush in the dim glow of streetlamps, shivering from the cold as she reached her apartment, beginning to grow uncertain and terrified once again. The lights were still on.

_Enjolras._

Her heart pounding, she reached out to ring the doorbell even though it was also her apartment as well as his, and almost immediately the door swung open.

Enjolras stood there, wearing a sweatshirt and pyjama pants and looking like a complete mess. His golden curls were in disarray, his blue eyes were red-rimmed, the stubble on his chin indicated that he hadn’t shaved in at least three days, and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days ever since Éponine took off. “’Ponine?” he croaked out, his voice hoarse.

Seeing how lost and confused he looked was too much for Éponine and she began to regret all she had done in the past week as she burst into tears right there on the doorstep, causing Enjolras to pull her inside and shut the door. He pulled her into his arms, feeling tears begin to prick his eyes as she sobbed in his arms, the two of them sinking to the floor in tears.

“I’m here, ’Ponine,” Enjolras whispered into her ear in a rasping voice, making her cry even harder.

“Don’t go,” Éponine pleaded tearfully, clinging to him like her life depended on it as she buried her face in his chest, sobbing harder than she ever had before, unable to believe how fucking stupid she had been. There was no telling whether Enjolras would forgive her or not, further adding on to her fears as she wept. “Please don’t go.”

A single tear rolled down Enjolras’ cheek as he whispered, “I won’t. I promise.”


	5. Chapter V

* * *

Éponine held on to Enjolras as tight as she could, sobbing her heart out and mumbling something that sounded very much like “’Jolras, I’m so sorry, I misspoke, I’m sorry, you mean so much to me, I’m sorry, I was an idiot and a coward and I just took off on you like that, _I’m so sorry_ —”

“Shhhhhhhhhh.” Enjolras stroked her hair soothingly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held her tight, rocking back and forth ever so slightly as she shook uncontrollably in his arms. All he could focus on was comforting one of his best friends, if not his very best friend, one he lived with, the girl he had gotten pregnant due to one drunken night of passion on his birthday. It killed him inside to see her so upset, and even though he had a hunch that the pregnancy hormones were at work, he still hated to see her so hopeless. “’Ponine, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have panicked and lied to you.”

Éponine went stiff, looking up to stare into his blue eyes in shock, unsure if she heard him correctly. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her voice quavering.

“I meant what I said that night, ’Ponine,” Enjolras told her quietly, continuing to stroke her hair as he watched tears roll down her cheek. “I l—”

“Stop.” Éponine pressed a finger to his lips, not wanting him to say it. It would only make things so much scarier and everything would feel _realer_ , and she didn’t think she could handle his emotional baggage on top of her own. “Don’t say it.”

“Why, ’Ponine?” Enjolras whispered, rather incredulous. Hearing the pain and hurt in his voice only made her feel even worse.

“’Jolras, you don’t get it!” Éponine cried, sobbing even harder and trembling all over from the sheer force of her sobs. “I can’t handle that. I’ll start feeling like I’ll end up disappointing you and I’ll get scared that you’ll change your mind and I just can’t handle people confessing like that. I’ll just get scared and run away. ’Jolras, please, _please_ don’t tell me that. Not now. I have too much baggage already.”

“Well, if that’s what you want, then okay,” Enjolras murmured, rather disheartened, cupping her jaw and brushing the hair out of her face. “But just know that I mean it, ’Ponine. I really, really do.”

Éponine curled into him and began to cry even more, heart-rending sobs overtaking her body and breaking Enjolras’ heart. “I’m sorry, Enjolras,” she managed to whisper between sobs, rocking back and forth in his arms. “I wasn’t using you as a rebound. I could never do anything like that, especially with my best friend. Yes, I still need time to get over it, but you weren’t a rebound. You never even came close to being a rebound. You mean so much to me.”

Enjolras softened at her words, wondering how he was lucky enough to have this strong, amazing young woman as his best friend ( _and baby mama,_ an annoying little voice that sounded inexplicably like Courfeyrac in the back of his mind added). “That’s more than enough for now,” he murmured to her, holding her close. After some time, her sobs died down and she gazed up at him through red-rimmed eyes, still trembling ever so slightly.

“It’s late. I think you should go to bed,” Enjolras told her softly, pressing a gentle, rather hesitant kiss to her forehead. Éponine’s breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his lips pressed to her skin. “Come on.”

He got up, holding his hand out for her to take, and he gently pulled her to her feet and helped her out of her coat, guiding her to her bedroom. “Do you want me to go out while you change?” he asked tentatively, not wishing for her to be uncomfortable.

Éponine shook her head, wiping away some of the tears with the sleeve of her hoodie and attempting a smile. “Yeah, you don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking her shirt and thermals off right there in front of him. “You’ve seen me naked already anyway, when we… you know.” It shouldn’t be this fucking awkward to say the words “we had sex” out loud, damn it.

Enjolras shuffled rather uncomfortably as Éponine continued to undress in front of him until she was left in nothing but underwear. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but notice how her breasts seemed to have gotten bigger due to the pregnancy and he attempted to distract himself with foul, unpleasant thoughts to prevent a raging hard-on at the sight of her in nothing but her lacy undergarments. He vaguely recalled how she had worn something similar when they had slept together, and he barely managed to tear his gaze away from her as she turned around again, turning scarlet at being almost caught.

Éponine glimpsed Enjolras staring at her for just a millisecond before he looked away the moment she turned around, and she felt her cheeks flush pink as she turned around again to grab some clothes out of her closet, a look of utter frustration on her face as she pulled her pyjama pants and sweatshirt on, wondering why the hell he was making her at a loss for words. Why was he beginning to have such an effect on her?

By the time Éponine was decent and ready to just hop into bed and sleep for the next sixteen hours, Enjolras had walked over to meet her halfway, and her breath caught in her throat. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips when he proceeded to scoop her up in his arms bridal-style and begin to walk to the bed with her in his arms.

“’Jolras, you don’t have to do that,” Éponine protested as he put her down on the sheets, her face flushed red.

“Yes, but I want to,” Enjolras replied, sitting down at the edge of her bed once she had made herself comfortable under the blankets. “And besides, you’re pregnant with Peanut. It’s honestly the least I could do for getting you all knocked up.”

“Again, it takes two to tango,” Éponine reminded him, covered in blankets up to her neck. Enjolras turned and gave her a soft smile, that same sunshine smile he often gave her.

“Good night, ’Ponine,” he told her, leaning in to tentatively kiss her forehead before he stood up and walked out of the room, stopping on the way to turn off the lights.

Éponine frowned to herself when he shut the door behind him, not knowing why she found herself wishing that he had stayed with her for a little while more, at least until she fell asleep. Her hand went to her abdomen, which was still quite flat, and she caressed it tenderly.

“Your daddy is a really great guy, Peanut,” she whispered. “You’re going to love him.”

With that, she snuggled up in the sheets once again, falling into a dream-filled sleep.

* * *

“’Jolras, I can do things for myself, you know,” Éponine grumbled in irritation as she stood on the steps to their apartment, all bundled up for the winter as Enjolras went back and forth from inside the apartment and back to the car, taking Christmas presents to put inside the trunk as Éponine stood by and watched. It was Christmas day and snow was falling and piling up on the roads, and combined, Éponine and Enjolras had a total of twenty-six presents for their friends as they got ready to leave for Jehan’s place in Brooklyn.

“’Ponine, again, you’re pregnant and you shouldn’t overexert yourself,” Enjolras reminded her, running back inside to grab the last couple of presents and very nearly slipping on the icy steps where Éponine stood shivering.

“I hardly think helping pack up a couple of fucking Christmas presents would be considered overexertion,” Éponine replied dryly, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. She was about ten weeks along now, and though she didn’t have a prominent bump yet, the area below her navel definitely felt a lot firmer now. She knew that Jehan would be giving out hideous Christmas sweaters at the party, probably even more hideous than the sweaters from previous years due to his absolutely horrible taste in fashion, since the host of the annual Christmas party always gave out ugly sweaters ever since it became tradition for them back in college, so she’d have that to cover herself up. Not only that, but her breasts had gotten bigger and a lot more sore, and she felt as if her bras didn’t fit her anymore. “Jesus, I’m barely ten weeks along and you’re already going all papa bear. I’m not some helpless little damsel, ’Jolras.”

“I know you aren’t. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to Peanut,” Enjolras reasoned as he shut the trunk lid.

“Again, I doubt that helping carry Christmas presents would lead to anything bad happening to Peanut!” Éponine reiterated in exasperation, trudging down the steps. Enjolras got into the driver’s seat to start up the car as she claimed shotgun, and soon enough, they were stuck in Manhattan traffic on their way to Jehan’s Brooklyn loft.

In the midst of honking horns and enraged drivers, Éponine sighed loudly and turned her head to give Enjolras a pointed look. “I told you we should have left earlier.”

“It’s nine in the morning, Éponine!” Enjolras protested, accidentally honking the horn and earning himself a string of foul curse words from the irate truck driver beside them. Turning beet red as he mouthed an apology, he turned back to look at the road straight ahead, sighing in relief when the light turned green.

“Even so! You know what New York traffic is like!” Éponine slouched down in her seat and crossed her arms across her chest, pouting as the car slowly crept along down the streets of Manhattan. “See, this is why I take the subway everywhere,” she grumbled, glancing out the window at the streets whizzing past. In all honesty, they probably would have taken the subway if they didn’t have a fuckton of presents to bring to Jehan’s place for the Christmas party.

After a few moments in which they just sat in silence, Éponine spoke again. “So should we tell them today?” She was rather small and quite slim, and she figured she would start showing soon. Better to break the news to everyone before they all began to question why she was starting to look as if she had swallowed a watermelon in her second and third trimesters.

Having been dreading that question somewhat, Enjolras replied candidly, “If you want to, then go for it, but can you please tell me before you do? Not that you need my permission or anything, but I don’t want to be caught off-guard when you tell everyone you’re pregnant with my baby.”

“Sure thing, chief,” Éponine quipped, laughing when Enjolras made a face at the way she said it and grabbing the aux cord to plug her phone in, announcing to nobody in particular, “I’m turning on some music.”

“You better not play trash,” Enjolras deadpanned as he drove, keeping his eyes on the traffic ahead and not even paying attention to what Éponine was doing.

“You know I have fantastic taste,” Éponine retorted lightly, turning on the Anastasia cast recording and beginning to sing along.

After an hour and a half of Éponine loudly singing along to Anastasia and managing to talk Enjolras into singing Dmitry’s parts, they finally reached Brooklyn, relieved to be free from the hustle and bustle and the sheer rush of Manhattan. When they parked in front of Jehan’s apartment building, snow had begun to fall again as they got out of the car. “I’m helping carry half the presents,” Éponine told Enjolras firmly, briskly walking around the car to pop the trunk. “I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Enjolras knew better than to argue with a hormonal pregnant woman and let her take half the presents as they trudged up the stairs to Jehan’s preposterously huge loft that his wealthy parents had given to him when he earned his bachelor’s degree and they decided to move to Queens. When they rang the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal Jehan clad in a Christmas sweater that was probably even more hideous than all of his past choices in clothing combined, and the first thing Éponine and Enjolras heard was the unmistakable sound of Courfeyrac obnoxiously singing “Cooking by the Book”. Rolling her eyes, Éponine entered the loft with Enjolras closely following her, looking around at the lavishly decorated place.

“Merry Christmas, Eppy!” Jehan chirped, taking some of the presents from her to place underneath the massive Christmas tree in a corner of the room and smiling down at her. She grinned back at him, gesturing towards Courfeyrac, who was sprawled out on one of the couches, hogging space and singing to himself.

“I’d hug you, but my hands are full, and now yours are too,” Éponine told Jehan apologetically, narrowing her eyes at Courfeyrac. One would think he was already tipsy if he was singing like that, but Éponine remembered how he had been when he and Azelma had been… whatever the fuck they had been. That’s just the way he was.

“Here, I’ll take them,” Jehan offered, not even waiting for an answer before taking the rest of the presents from Éponine and Enjolras and _somehow_ managing to balance all twenty-six of them in his arms, which was no mean feat. “You two are looking good, by the way!” Jehan called over his shoulder as Éponine and Enjolras kicked off their shoes and took off their coats to hang up, taking off their layers until they were in nothing but jeans and T-shirts and fuzzy socks. Éponine crossed her arms over her chest as Jehan came back to her and Enjolras with two grotesque sweaters in hand.

“Here are yours!” Jehan told them cheerily, gesturing back towards Courfeyrac and lowering his voice to tell them, “He was the first to arrive. He needed some convincing to put the sweater on.” Leaning in, the ginger whispered to Éponine, “I think he likes your sister.”

“Right?” Éponine was relieved to find that she wasn’t crazy after all and that someone else saw how Courfeyrac and Azelma clearly had the hots for each other. “They’re being complete idiots. Friends-with-benefits arrangements never work out, and they’ve let it completely ruin their relationship.”

“He’s gone back to sleeping around now,” Jehan confided as Enjolras left to talk to Courfeyrac, having pulled his sweater on. “I think he’s trying to avoid facing his feelings.”

“Seems like Don Juan is in love,” Éponine remarked dryly. Courfeyrac had a bit of a reputation for really getting around, willing to sleep with any attractive person he had talked to for three seconds at a bar. He was infamous for using sex as a method of distraction, and it had seemed to work well enough for him—until now.

“You and Enjolras came early!” Jehan told her brightly as she pulled on her sweater, frowning down at how one could still clearly see how she had probably gone up one cup size through the sweater. “Courf was the first to arrive, and then you two.”

“Well, you know what that Manhattan traffic is like,” Éponine quipped, walking off to sit down on the armrest of an armchair. “We would’ve gotten here even later if we just left the apartment right now.” She noticed Courfeyrac still lying on the couch singing and called, “What up, asshole?”

“Nothing much,” Courfeyrac mumbled in reply, continuing to sing to himself as Enjolras gave up on talking to him, getting up to walk over to talk to Jehan. “It’s a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake…”

“Of all the things you could sing.” Éponine got up and marched over to sit on his stomach, causing him to wheeze at the unexpected weight. “How’re you? I haven’t seen you since you and Zel—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Courfeyrac snapped suddenly, shoving her off his stomach and flipping over to bury his face in a throw pillow, screeching into it out of frustration. Éponine raised an eyebrow at his abrupt, uncharacteristically hostile manner. _He’s probably just upset about the Azelma situation,_ Éponine reasoned, crawling over to kneel beside his head.

“Hey,” she whispered, patting his back. “Hey, Courf, buddy. Do you want me to get you a drink? A drink would make you feel a _lot_ better—”

“I don’t want a drink right now,” Courfeyrac mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Why don’t you go get one?”

“I’m, uh, not drinking,” Éponine told him, ruffling his dark curly hair.

Courfeyrac raised his head to stare at her incredulously, snorting. “Éponine Amélie Thénardier, not drinking? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the apartment had Éponine jumping up, and she ran over to the door, shouting out, “I’ll get it!”

She opened the door to find Combeferre standing there in his winter coat and scarf, a mountain of presents piled up on the floor behind him. “Hi, ’Ferre!” Éponine threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug, laughing as he hugged her right back, patting her back. She could feel how wet his coat was from the melted snow, and she squirmed as the water soaked into her sweater, quickly pulling away.

“Hi, Ep,” he replied, smiling down at her once she pulled away. His eyes flicked to her abdomen as he lowered his voice, asking quietly, “How are you feeling?”

“What—” She then remembered how Enjolras had told her yesterday of how he had told Combeferre of the pregnancy after he found the ultrasound photo on the fridge. “Oh. I’m fine. A little nauseous, but fine.”

“You know I’m studying to be an OBGYN, right?” Combeferre reminded her as he pulled off his coat to hang up on the coat hanger by the door. Since the Amis were there so often, Jehan had taken it upon himself to label each hook with each of their names to avoid any confusion. “You can always ask me about these things.”

“I’m fine, ’Ferre, really,” Éponine reassured him, the corners of her lips turning up in a wry smile. “Everything’s fine. How’s med school going?”

“Don’t change the subject, Éponine,” Combeferre gently chided, taking her wrist in his hand. Lowering his voice so nobody else would hear, he asked, “Really, are you feeling all right? How far along are you?”

“I’m okay,” she assured him, forcing a smile. “I’m about ten weeks along, give or take.”

“You’re pretty small,” Combeferre commented, looking her up and down and sizing her up. “You’re probably going to start showing soon. When are you going to tell the others?”

“I’m planning on doing so today,” Éponine replied, her eyes flicking towards Enjolras and catching him seeming as if he was watching her chat with Combeferre before he quickly looked away the moment she glanced at him. “Better to get it over with.”

“We’re here for you, Éponine,” Combeferre assured her, taking her hand and giving it a friendly squeeze. “Don’t ever think otherwise. We would never dream of judging you for… well, you know. We love you.”

“I know. I love you guys too. Thanks, ’Ferre, you’re the best.” Éponine pulled him into yet another hug, trying to convey how grateful she was in a wordless hug before going back to sit by the fire, pulling a blanket off of Courfeyrac despite the man’s protests and wrapping it around herself. Snow was steadily falling outside as the fire roared in the fireplace, warming her face up as she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, lost in her thoughts. She wondered how the pregnancy was going to affect her teaching—she loved those little shits she taught; she loved teaching art to them. Would pregnancy change all that?

She looked around at the massive loft—there was mistletoe hanging from all parts of the ceiling and tinsel and fairy lights everywhere, even on the railing of the stairs leading up to what she assumed was Jehan’s bedroom.  The enormous Christmas tree in the corner reached the ceiling and led Éponine to wonder how the hell Jehan managed to get the silver star on top, and it was absolutely covered in ornaments and fairy lights, presents piled high underneath. She could barely resist the urge to crawl over and shake the presents meant for her like she used to do when she was a child and her parents weren’t as shitty as they had turned out to be. Glancing at the ornaments now, she noticed that most of them were glass photo ornaments, commemorating past Christmases with all of the Amis and quite a few events that they had all come to consider defining moments in their friendship. There was a picture of all of them in front of the Gershwin Theatre when they had all finally decided to see Wicked; a photograph of Musichetta, Cosette, Azelma, and Éponine herself standing in front of the Hogwarts Express at Universal Studios, all of them wearing their respective Hogwarts house robes; Grantaire and Courfeyrac cheering Gavroche on at one of his high school baseball games; Enjolras looking completely unamused in Mickey Mouse ears as everyone else forced him into taking a picture with Mickey at Disney World; several photographs of all of them at NYC Pride through the years; and God knows what else. Éponine found herself smiling at all the pictures and the memories they held, and she didn’t even hear an all too familiar voice shrieking her name until she was tackled by a blonde, five-foot-two ball of actual sunshine wearing a horrid Christmas sweater and a little Santa hat.

“Eppy!” Cosette shrieked in her ear, squeezing the other woman tight and nearly knocking the wind out of Éponine. She gritted her teeth and faked a smile as Cosette pressed a kiss to her cheek, as was her way of greeting all of her friends. Éponine groaned inwardly. Will she ever get the fuck over this ridiculous crush? She knew that Cosette liked girls; she just happened to be pansexual and engaged to Marius, so any hopes of ever getting with her had flown out the window completely when they first announced their engagement several months ago. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Cosette,” she replied softly, rolling her eyes in amusement as Cosette squeezed the breath out of her. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’ve been great!” Cosette let go of Éponine and sat down beside her, bouncing up and down. The young woman practically radiated enthusiasm, and Éponine couldn’t help but feel as if her spirits had been lifted up, if only slightly, by Cosette’s mere presence as the blonde yammered on, “The wedding plans are all set, I _love_ being a first grade teacher so far, and oh, I got you something for Christmas!”

Éponine gave Cosette a tight-lipped smile. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense, you’re one of my best friends,” Cosette told Éponine, her wavy, blonde hair bouncing along with her. “Also, I have a huge, _huge_ favour to ask you. So Marius and I have decided that the wedding’s going to be in May, a spring wedding, in Central Park.” She paused for dramatic effect before squealing, “Will you be one of my bridesmaids?”

Éponine nearly choked on her own spit at Cosette’s request, caught completely off-guard. Here the blonde was, asking her to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, which was going to be held in _May_. She was going to be seven months along at that point! She was going to look like a fucking _whale_ and draw all the attention away from the bride with her massive stomach!

“Are you okay?” Cosette’s brow furrowed in confusion at the look on Éponine’s face. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I love you, Eppy, and I’d really love for you to—”

“I’ll think about it,” Éponine interjected, cutting her off. “Cosette, I love you, but I’ll have to think about it first.”

“Oh, sure, take your time!” Cosette pressed another kiss to Éponine’s cheek, driving the brunette even more insane as she felt something akin to a burning sensation on her cheek where Cosette’s lips met her skin, before Cosette jumped to her feet to join Marius and Courfeyrac. “No rush. It’s only December, after all. We _will_ have to choose bridesmaid dresses soon, though.” With that, she bounced away, a spring in her step as per usual. Éponine sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around herself, wondering what the hell Cosette—and everyone else, for that matter—would think once Éponine told them all she was knocked up.

“Are you okay?” She jumped at the sound of Enjolras’ voice and turned to see him sitting down beside her before the fireplace. She sighed and shook her head.

“No,” she mumbled, pouting petulantly and shrinking into her blanket as she scooted closer to Enjolras, who instinctively put an arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m tired and nauseous and I feel as if I’m going to throw up but I’m not going to do that because then everyone will suspect something and someone will inevitably guess that I’m knocked up and steal away the honour of telling everyone from me.” She huffed in irritation and drew back from Enjolras, turning away and scooting closer to the fire, feeling the heat on her face.

“Do you want me to get you a drink or something?” Enjolras offered quietly, an unreadable look in his eyes as he gazed at a desolate Éponine. “I could get you some punch.”

“No, thanks,” Éponine muttered, pulling her legs towards her chest and burying her face in her knees. “It’ll just remind me of the fact that everyone else can drink alcohol while I can’t. I guess I’ll just sit here and sulk.”

“Well, okay, then.” Enjolras got up and stared at Éponine in concern for a few moments too long before going to the kitchen to speak with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, the latter having cheered up significantly since the former’s arrival. The two of them were sharing a bottle of wine over the kitchen island as Enjolras approached them.

“Hey, what’s up with Ep?” Courfeyrac asked, taking a swig of his wine and proceeding to let out a burp. “She seems out of it. She’s not drinking! Éponine never _doesn’t_ drink!”

“Double negative,” Combeferre pointed out offhandedly as he took a sip of his wine, exchanging a knowing look with a red-faced Enjolras, who obviously knew exactly what was up with Éponine. “She’s fine. She told me so.”

“She seems really out of it,” Courfeyrac said, chugging the rest of his wine and letting out a long, contented sigh as held out his glass for Combeferre to refill, at which time he turned to Enjolras and asked rather accusingly, “Enjy, did you do something?”

“No,” Enjolras denied instantly, turning even redder. As a matter of fact, he _had_ done something, but there was no way in _hell_ he was going to tell Courfeyrac what exactly it was that he had done. He’d never hear the end of it if he did.

“You live with her,” Courfeyrac pointed out, taking a sip of his wine. He patted Combeferre’s shoulder, rather irritated that most of his friends were taller than he was. Being five foot seven hurt his otherwise massive ego. “And aren’t you like in love with her or something?” At the look on Enjolras’ face, Courfeyrac snorted rather derisively and continued, “Oh, don’t look so surprised, you can’t hide your feelings to save your fucking life. How do you think we found out about your crush on Feuilly back in college?”

“Jesus Christ, will you ever let me live that down?” Enjolras groaned, grabbing a glass and reaching out to take the bottle of wine from Combeferre to pour himself a drink. He wasn’t one to drink, but he supposed one glass wouldn’t hurt. He knew that his little thing for Feuilly way back when was the first time he had really fallen hard for someone, but damn, his friends didn’t have to make such a big fucking deal out of it years later.

Courfeyrac smirked. “Never, my friend. Never.” He raised his glass to bump it against Enjolras’ in a toast, laughing and saying, “Merry Christmas!” just as the door swung open.

“What’s up, fuckfaces?” Grantaire, as always, had to make a dramatic entrance, walking into the loft with shades on and raising his arms to spread them wide. Joly and Bossuet were close behind with Musichetta, carrying presents; Musichetta had her arms crossed across her chest, rolling her eyes in amusement as they entered the loft with a fuckton of presents to place underneath the Christmas tree. Grantaire took his coat off to hang up and basically ran over to the fireplace once his shoes were off, and he fell to his knees to embrace Éponine. “I haven’t seen you in some time! How are you, Ep?”

“Fine as always,” Éponine lied, forcing herself to smile at her best friend since high school. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. How are things? How’s Gav? Where is he?”

“He’s coming with Azelma,” Grantaire told her, putting an arm around her as he made himself comfortable in front of the fire. Éponine snuggled up to him almost immediately, laying a head on his shoulder and staring at the sparks flying before her eyes. “He’s doing just fine. I mean, there’s the senioritis and all, but it’s not that bad right now. I’m helping him out with college apps. NYU’s his top choice.”

“Good for him,” Éponine commented rather absently, staring into the dancing flames. “I got you a present.”

“So did I!” Grantaire replied unusually happily. Éponine reasoned that it was probably the holiday cheer.

“Where’s Toby?” Éponine questioned, referring to Grantaire’s little pet Yorkie.

“He’s with my sister for the day. The poor thing has a cold.” Standing up, he told her, “I’m going to go get a drink. Do you want me to get you one?”

“No, thanks,” Éponine replied, repeating her words from earlier. “I’m not drinking.”

Grantaire furrowed his brow in surprise at her statement; besides himself, she was the last person he expected to not be drinking. As she pulled away from him to sit alone in front of the fire, he got up and went over to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at her as she finally dropped the blanket and went over to stare out the window. Once he reached Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras in the kitchen, he asked curiously, “What’s up with Ep?”

“We don’t know!” Courfeyrac replied irritably, drinking his wine. “She seems really out of it today.”

“How can she be? It’s Christmas!” Grantaire pointed out, grabbing the bottle of wine from Enjolras before the man could protest and downing the whole thing, much to the golden-haired man’s disdain.

“That’s what I was wondering,” Courfeyrac huffed, walking away to talk to Musichetta. Combeferre and Enjolras shared a knowing, meaningful look before the former walked off, presumably to talk to Éponine. Grantaire narrowed his eyes, having seen the look on both of the men’s faces, and he made a sudden noise that oddly resembled a crow’s, startling Enjolras.

“You two know something!” Grantaire realised out loud, his tone rather accusing as he eyed Enjolras suspiciously. “Is Éponine all right?”

“She’s _fine_ , R,” Enjolras told him in exasperation. “I live with her, for fuck’s sake. I’d know if something was wrong.”

Although he still wasn’t quite convinced, Grantaire said nothing more of it and merely placed his elbow on Enjolras’ shoulder, leaning against the taller man as he observed Éponine from afar. “Is it just me, or have Éponine’s boobs gotten bigger?”

Enjolras turned beet red at Grantaire’s offhand statement just as the other man turned to glance at him, and Grantaire cackled at Enjolras’ reaction, amused beyond belief at how adorably in love with Éponine the blond was. “God, you should see the look on your face! You like her, don’t you?”

“I thought that was old news,” Enjolras gritted through clenched teeth, not even bothering to deny it since everyone obviously saw how he was lying anyway.

“Have you managed to tap that yet?” Grantaire continued, grinning mischievously when Enjolras became even more flustered, turning even redder at Grantaire’s words.

“N-no,” Enjolras lied through his teeth, visibly flustered. He ran his fingers through his golden curls absent-mindedly as Grantaire eyed him with suspicion, not quite believing him.

“Huh.” Grantaire went back to watching Éponine from a distance, mumbling absently, “I’ve tapped that once. It was weird. Going down on your best friend is weird. Nice, but weird.”

“You don’t say,” Enjolras replied dryly, mildly disturbed as he rolled his eyes and shoved Grantaire’s elbow off his shoulder. “Also, that’s too much information, thank you very much. Why don’t you go talk to Bossuet or something? I need some time alone.”

“Sure thing, chief,” Grantaire quipped, slinking off to join Joly and Bossuet on one of the couches. Enjolras sighed and drank whatever was left of his wine, his mind occupied with thoughts of Éponine and Peanut, exhaling deeply and placing the empty glass on the kitchen island. Just when he thought he was finally alone, Marius approached him, and he groaned internally.

“What do you want?” Enjolras asked rather snappishly, growing impatient. He just wanted—no, _needed_ some time alone, damn it! Why did his friends have to make it so hard?

“Calm down, I was just about to ask you to be a part of my wedding,” Marius replied, unfazed by Enjolras’ curt manner. “It’s going to be in May. Will you be one of my groomsmen?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Enjolras brushed the other man off, not even thinking twice about what exactly it was that he was agreeing to. A smile lit up Marius’ face as the ginger-haired, freckle-faced law student went off, grinning and thinking that that hadn’t been too hard. He adored Enjolras like an older brother, and although it seemed to get on Enjolras’ nerves sometimes, Marius had gotten used to the terse replies he often got from the up-and-coming lawyer.

Meanwhile, Combeferre had tentatively approached Éponine at the window to see if she was really okay. “Éponine, really, are you all right?” he asked as she turned at the sound of his voice.

“Combeferre, I told you, I’m _fine_ ,” Éponine reassured him, beginning to grow tired of how concerned he was. She knew he meant well, but she was just pregnant; it wasn’t like she was _dying_. “A little nauseous, yeah, but not enough to throw up yet.”

“Well, just let me know if you’re feeling all funny,” Combeferre told her, putting an arm around her as she did the same. “I could help you out.”

“Well, I’m really craving some ice cream and ketchup now,” Éponine told him, smiling up at him innocently.

Combeferre quickly backtracked, saying, “Yeah, I can’t help you there.” He had to restrain himself from gagging at the mere thought of her bizarre request, thinking that no one could possibly find ketchup on ice cream appealing. Then again, what the hell did he know? He wasn’t the one with the pregnancy cravings.

Soon enough, Azelma, Gavroche, Feuilly, and Bahorel had arrived, completing their little gang of misfits quite nicely, and soon enough Courfeyrac was standing on a chair, shouting out, “Everyone’s here! Let’s play a game!”

“Better not be a drinking game,” Éponine muttered to herself as she went over to the centre of the living room where everyone was gathered, sitting in a circle on the rug by the fire.

“Truth or dare!” Courfeyrac crowed, plopping down next to Gavroche. “Who’s in?”

“This is Christmas and that is a spectacularly terrible idea, but why the fuck not, right?” Musichetta grabbed Éponine’s hand and pulled her down to sit next to her. “How are we going to do this?”

Grantaire pulled out an empty wine bottle from seemingly nowhere and placed it in the centre of their large circle. “I go first,” he declared, ignoring everyone else’s complaints and protests as he spun the bottle, an evil, absolutely _vile_ little smirk appearing on his face when it landed on Enjolras.

“Okay, Enjy, truth or dare?” the brunet asked. Everyone turned to glance at Enjolras, who almost immediately turned beet red when he felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“We’re not in high school anymore, R,” Enjolras replied in a monotone. “This is so—”

“TRUTH OR DARE!” Grantaire shouted, his voice louder than he himself had expected it to be.

“Dare!” Enjolras yelped, taken aback by the other man’s tone of voice. He knew all sorts of questions that Grantaire could ask if he had chosen truth, and he was _not_ going to tell everyone he and Éponine had slept together until she told him it was okay to do so.

“Okay, I dare you to go into the closet with Éponine for seven minutes,” Grantaire told him smugly, smirking as all the colour drained from Enjolras’ face and Éponine’s indifferent expression morphed into one of objection.

“R, might I remind you this is truth or dare,” Éponine protested, fire in her dark eyes. “Not seven minutes in heaven. We’re not fourteen, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s the dare!” Grantaire insisted. “Take it or remove an article of clothing!”

“I’m right here!” Gavroche pointed out heatedly.

“Yeah, we’re not doing strip truth or dare,” Joly chimed in, shaking his head vigorously as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

“Well, Ep, Enj, into the closet you go!” Grantaire forcibly pulled the both of them to their feet and ushered them into the closet despite their myriad protests. “Éponine, shut up and stop making closet jokes. We _know_ you two are out; we all are, heterosexuality is overrated as fuck. Get in there.” With that, the brunet closed the door behind Éponine and Enjolras, leaving them both trapped in a dark closet together.

Éponine groaned and fell back against the wall, sliding to the floor in defeat. “Well, we’ve got seven minutes. We might as well talk.”

Enjolras nodded in agreement and sat down across from her, crossing his legs. “’Ponine, are you feeling okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She made bewildered gesticulations, her brow furrowing in frustration as she attempted to work out why the hell everyone seemed to be so worried about her. “I’m _fine_ , ’Jolras! I’m perfectly okay! It’s not like I’m going to throw up anytime soon!”

“Okay, okay! Got it!” Enjolras raised his hands in surrender before the both of them fell silent once more, contemplating what else to say. After three minutes or so, Éponine spoke again.

“So how do _you_ feel about all of this?” she asked, pointing to her flat abdomen. “You’re going to be a daddy, ’Jolras.”

“I’d prefer the term father or even just dad, thanks,” Enjolras replied dryly, trying not to think about the unfortunate implications in the word daddy. “I’m… pretty excited, to tell you the truth. I’ve always wanted a kid. I mean, yes, this is a lot sooner than I expected, but I always did want a kid.” In all his wildest dreams, he never would have imagined that Éponine would end up becoming the mother of his child.

“You better thank me,” Éponine pretended to huff, crossing her arms across her chest and feigning disdain. “I’m going to be the one carrying your baby and I’ll have to be the one having to deal with the stretch marks and swollen feet and whatnot.”

Enjolras laughed and scooted over to sit next to her, putting an arm around the young woman as she laid her head on his shoulder, readily accepting his embrace. She thought she felt an odd sort of fluttering in her chest at the feeling of his fingers brushing hers. “You’re the greatest friend I could ever ask for, ’Ponine,” he whispered, leaning his head on hers and ignoring how loudly his heart was pounding, practically hearing how hard and fast his heart was beating. “I can’t thank you enough. I promise I’ll help raise and take care of Peanut just as much as you will. I’m not going to let do you all the hard work.”

“Should I tell them when we get out of this closet?” Éponine questioned, turning her head to look up at Enjolras, a strange, foreign look in her eyes. Was this still just the pregnancy hormones acting up? “I mean, we should probably just get it over with.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Enjolras replied, kissing her forehead and making her cheeks grow warm. “We’ll just figure out how to deal with everyone’s reactions on the spot."

Éponine lifted her head to gaze tenderly into his eyes, her lips curving into a soft little smile as Enjolras smiled back. His heart skipped a few beats when she leaned in ever so slightly, her tiny movement barely noticeable, and after pausing for a split second, she leaned in even more, and he could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes closed, moving in just slightly as well before the moment was completely ruined by Courfeyrac throwing open the door.

“Time’s up, losers!” he shouted as they quickly pulled away from each other, blinking at the sudden light that flooded the closet. Her face turning a faint shade of pink, Éponine rolled her eyes as she got to her feet, Enjolras doing the same, and all the Amis save Gavroche all seemed visibly disappointed that nothing particularly sexy seemed to have happened. Realising this, Éponine rolled her eyes once more and huffed, “You know, if you guys wanted us to have sex that badly, you should’ve given us more than seven minutes.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of quickies?” Courfeyrac snarked in response. “Okay, since you’re already there anyway, Éponine, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she responded without hesitation, turning her head and glancing up at Enjolras to see him nod slightly.

“Okay, why the _fuck_ have you been acting so weird?” Courfeyrac questioned, walking towards her. When Éponine raised an eyebrow, he specified, “You’re not drinking, which is _weird_ since you’re usually the second person to get drunk after R whenever we all hang out together, you’re all moody and shit, and you’re not as enthusiastic anymore about these stupid childish games we like to play when we’re all together. So spill—what’s the matter?”

Éponine took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the reaction she was bound to get. Enjolras noticed how jittery she seemed to be and took her hand in his, squeezing it in reassurance. She looked up at him and smiled appreciatively, letting go of his hand after he squeezed it and taking several deep breaths to compose herself. “Guys, I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Azelma’s eyes widened when she realised what exactly Éponine was about to confess, and when Gavroche turned to look at his sister and open his mouth to say something, she merely shushed him and gestured back towards Éponine. Combeferre caught Enjolras’ eye, and the latter nodded ever so slightly when Combeferre mouthed a question. _Is she going to…?_

“Spill!” Grantaire called out, looking as if he was about to explode from the suspense.

Taking a deep breath, Éponine blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would apologise, but i feel no remorse for the cliffhanger. *insert smiley devil face emoji here*


	6. Chapter VI

Everyone in the room fell silent, some with their mouths hanging open in shock as they all stared at Éponine in disbelief. Grantaire looked as if he was about to pass out, while Gavroche was looking back and forth between his two sisters, his mouth hanging open. At long last, Courfeyrac choked out the one word that was on most of their minds: “ _What?_ ”

“She said she’s pregnant!” Azelma answered for her sister, shooting Courfeyrac a contemptuous look as if he was scum between her toes and making him flinch at her unexpectedly nasty glare.

“Did I ask you?” he retorted harshly, apparently still upset about what had happened between them. Azelma let out a scream of frustration and turned away, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Éponine, you’re _pregnant_?” Bahorel looked as if he was ready to murder whoever knocked her up, ready to throw hands at any given moment, which was the first thing Enjolras noticed about him at that very moment. The golden-haired man gulped.

“Yes, I am,” Éponine confirmed, beginning to look as if she was regretting the decision to tell everyone about the fact that she was growing a fucking baby inside her. She stole a glance at Marius and Cosette, who were just staring at her in shock, rendered completely speechless, and when she saw similar stunned looks on everyone else’s faces, her heart sank.

After a few more painful moments of deafening silence in which everyone just stared at Éponine in shock, Grantaire broke the silence by stating, “Well, I guess I’ll ask the question that’s sure to be on everyone’s mind right now. Éponine, who’s the baby daddy?”

Enjolras took a deep breath, preparing himself for all the death glares he was sure to receive, stepping forward and saying quietly, “That would be me.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped further as they all turned to gape at Enjolras, hardly able to believe their ears. _He_ was the one who had gotten Éponine knocked up? Bahorel began to clench his fists as his eyes seemed to glare into Enjolras’ soul, and Enjolras took a step back, beginning to fear for his life.

“ _Enjolras_ had _sex_?” Courfeyrac screeched in utter disbelief, unable to believe that _Enjolras_ , the marble man, the chief of their little posse, the least childish out of all of them, the one who had their shit together the most, had actually had _sex_. “ _You_ stuck it in Éponine?”

Cringing at Courfeyrac’s word choice, Éponine called out in distaste, “I’d prefer if you didn’t use such vulgar expressions. Also, what the actual fuck? I’m _pregnant_ , for fuck’s sake, and all you can focus on is the fact that ’Jolras actually had sex?!”

“Can you blame us?” Courfeyrac retorted defensively, his dark eyes wide as they flicked back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras, surprised to find that it was quite easy to picture the both of them getting it on, especially with the knowledge that Enjolras had been in love with Éponine for forever now. “He’s the fucking marble man! _The marble man_ did the do! He knocked boots! Took a trip to pound town! Did the no-pants dance! The horizontal hula! He fornicated! Got frisky! Explored her cave of wonders! Got it on! Rolled in the hay! Hit a home run! Glazed the donut! Slipped her the ol’ hot beef injection! Did the lust-and-thrust! Filled—”

“Okay, Courf, we get it!” Enjolras shouted, cutting his friend off, his cheeks burning red at Courfeyrac’s words. Good God, how many euphemisms for sex did Courfeyrac know of? “Point is, she’s pregnant because of me and a bunch of you look like you’re going to kill me now.” Stepping back and slightly shrinking into himself, he muttered, “Please don’t kill me.”

“How did this _happen_?” Gavroche questioned, completely incredulous, a look of shock and disbelief and slight—no, complete disgust dawning on his face when he realised Éponine, his _sister_ , had sex with _Enjolras_ , who was basically his older brother and his _idol_ , and the two of them had made a baby and he was going to be a fucking _uncle_ at seventeen years old—or eighteen, if the baby was going to be born after his birthday. It was too much to process all at once.

“You assholes got me drunk on my birthday,” Enjolras accused, pointing a finger in Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s direction. Grantaire merely gave him the most infuriating smirk ever in response, a smirk that just _screamed_ the words _At least you got laid!_ “And ’Ponine was pretty drunk as well, so when we got home, one thing led to another and… well, here we are.” He noticed the murderous looks on Bahorel’s, Gavroche’s, Azelma’s, Musichetta’s, and Cosette’s faces and recoiled, wondering what the hell they would do if he stepped out of line.

“Enjolras, can we talk to you alone, please?” Cosette asked, vaguely threatening undertones lacing her sweet voice like venom. She gestured towards Gavroche, indicating that he too wanted to speak alone with the golden-haired man. Wondering what would happen if he said no, he nodded automatically, too terrified of what they would do to him if he said no.

“Hey, now you have an excuse to use that baby name book I gave you!” Courfeyrac mused out loud, earning himself a look of exasperation from Enjolras. Courfeyrac merely laughed to himself, saying, “I knew that shit would come in handy at some point…”

“You lied to me!” Grantaire burst out, remembering something Enjolras had said earlier. “You _have_ tapped that!”

Éponine turned to give Grantaire a look, rather disgusted and yet amused at the same time. “ _Really_ , R? _Really_?”

“No wonder you’re not drinking,” Grantaire mused, ignoring her. “Shit. I was about to suggest a few drinking games, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”

“Oh, do go on with your drinking games,” Éponine told him, brushing him off. “I’ll just take shots of water. I need to stay hydrated anyway.”

“Oh, okay!” Grantaire’s whole face lit up as he clapped his hands together before running over to grab something from his bag—his beloved DVD copy of _Love Actually_. “Guys, let’s watch this! I have a drinking game in mind! Ep and Gav, you two take shots of water instead!”

“I have something to do first,” Gavroche called back, walking over to Cosette and exchanging a few words with her under his breath. Soon enough, the both of them turned to Enjolras with a purpose, grabbing the tall golden-haired man by his arms and dragging him off to a corner of the enormous room to speak privately with him.

“So I’m assuming the sex was consensual,” Cosette began, her tone surprisingly dark for someone as bright and cheerful as her. “Although I have no idea how either of you could have consented if you were both drunk out of your minds.”

“I remember _some_ things,” Enjolras replied. “It was pretty consensual. I think. I mean, we, um—” He turned a fiery shade of scarlet as he muttered sheepishly, “We did it again the next morning, and we definitely weren’t drunk then, so I think it was consensual.”

“ _Good_ , because if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t hesitate to punch you in the dick right now,” Cosette told him, smiling sweetly up at the blond, who was an entire head taller than her. Fire in her blue eyes, she lowered her voice, whispering threateningly, “If you ever hurt my Eppy, I will end you. Don’t you agree, Gav?”

“Yeah,” Gavroche agreed, giving Enjolras a stony look and making him flinch at the icy look in Gavroche’s blue eyes. How could these two, both younger and shorter than him, terrify him so much? “If you hurt my sister…”

“I promise I won’t,” Enjolras told them sincerely, trying not to let them hear the slight fear in his voice. “Can you promise me something?”

Cosette raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What is it?”

“Feel free to hurt me if I ever do anything to hurt her,” Enjolras told her, his tone rather pleading. “Please.”

“Gladly,” she replied under her breath, letting go of his arm to relieve him of her iron grip and sauntering away to sit with everyone else in front of the TV. They all had shot glasses in hand, a couple of bottles of vodka and a bottle of water for Éponine and Gavroche on the coffee table, and the movie was just starting as Grantaire explained the rules of the drinking game to all of them.

“Take a shot every time someone says ‘wank’, ‘bugger’, ‘piss’, ‘bollocks’, or ‘bloody’,” Grantaire explained loudly over the noise of their ceaseless chatter. “Oh, and every time someone says the word ‘actually’ and every time one storyline crosses another. And every time you see boobs, like, bare boobs in all their naked glory. And every time someone makes a totally unprompted, completely unnecessary comment about Natalie’s weight. And every time ‘Christmas Is All Around’ starts playing. _And_ every time you’re the first person to shout ‘SNAPE!’ or ‘MR. BEAN!’ whenever Alan Rickman or Rowan Atkinson—or both—appear on screen.”

Éponine was beginning to look rather bored, playing around with her shot glass as she asked in disinterest, “Are you done?”

“Okay, I’m done. Also, you and Gav take shots of water instead.” Grantaire sat back down on the floor by the coffee table, leaning back to place his head in Jehan’s lap for no other reason than the fact that he wanted to. Cosette took a seat beside Éponine on the sofa just as the narration was starting.

“You probably hate me now,” Éponine muttered, hugging a throw pillow to her chest and avoiding Cosette’s gaze. She just wanted what little was left of this stupid little crush to go away, but both Cosette and Marius just made it so damn hard to do so. She could only hope she would have sorted out this stupid little crush by the time their wedding rolled around.

“Eppy, no!” Cosette pulled Éponine into a hug, cradling her head in her small hand and ruffling her dark hair. “I could never hate you. Why would I hate you just because you’re pregnant? That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Cosette pulled back and placed her hands on Éponine’s shoulders, telling her, “You’re lucky you have Enjolras by your side—he’s not going to leave, I just know it, especially since your brother and I just threatened to end him if he ever tries to.” At the alarmed look on Éponine’s face, Cosette said airily, “Eppy, don’t look so surprised, what did you expect us to do? He wasn’t going to try to leave in the first place anyway, since it’s pretty obvious that he’s seriously in love with you. You’re pretty lucky—my dad, my biological dad left when I was three; I don’t remember much of him. Not that I care—my adoptive Papa is the best dad I could ever ask for, and my actual dad can go screw himself for all I care. Enj is going to be a great dad, I can just tell. Is that why you didn’t say yes to being one of my bridesmaids earlier? How far along are you?”

“Ten weeks,” Éponine mumbled, curling up into a tiny ball as Courfeyrac shouted out, “Snape!” and promptly had to take a shot. “I’ll be seven months along by your wedding. I’ll look like a whale. You wouldn’t want some pregnant girl drawing all the attention away from you.”

“Nonsense. I still want you to be a bridesmaid, Éponine,” Cosette told her sincerely, taking her friend’s hand and squeezing it. Éponine felt her cheeks grow warm at the simple gesture, even though she knew full well that it was merely friendly. “I don’t care how big you’ll be by then. I still want you in my wedding.”

Éponine felt tears form in her eyes before she blinked them away, angry at herself for being so damn emotional. “Okay, I’ll be a bridesmaid then,” she murmured, looking up to give Cosette a watery smile.

Cosette beamed and kissed the tip of Éponine’s nose. “Thank you so much, Eppy!” she squealed, a massive smile lighting up her heart-shaped face. “You’re the greatest.”

“Thanks,” Éponine mumbled, jumping when Grantaire slipped into the empty space beside her on the couch, a devilish smirk on his face. Sighing, she asked, “What do you want, R?”

“Tell me, is Enjy any good in bed?” Grantaire had the audacity to ask, grinning at Éponine and wiggling his eyebrows. Making a funny little noise of annoyance, Éponine shoved him off the couch.

“What happened that night stays between me and him,” Éponine replied firmly, rolling her eyes at Grantaire’s prying question and taking a shot of water when a topless Joanna Page appeared onscreen.

“You know he’s in love with you, right?” Grantaire told her, following her example and taking a shot of vodka. “Like, he’s seriously got it _bad_ for you.”

“R, I really don’t want to talk about that right now, okay?” Éponine pushed him away, curling up into a little ball once more and feeling worse about herself after Grantaire reminded her of how much Enjolras was supposedly in love with her. She had enough emotional baggage already.

“Éponine needs some space, R,” Cosette told him gently, patting his shoulder. “Lady with a baby here.” She proceeded to put her arms around Éponine as the taller woman curled into her, feeling secure in the small blonde’s embrace and growing rather sleepy for some reason.

By the time the movie ended, it was around two in the afternoon, and all of them gathered around the fireplace with plates of food to eat and chat. Musichetta had crept up on Éponine and was now sitting beside the brunette in front of the fire, an arm around the other woman.

“So, Ep, how are you doing?” Musichetta asked breezily, tucking her shoulder-length honey-brown hair behind her ear. “How far along are you? Also—feel free to not answer if it makes you uncomfy—how good is Enj in bed?”

“I’m fine, I’m ten weeks along, and you’re actually the second person to ask me if Enjolras is good in bed,” Éponine replied, fiddling with her fork, having finished her meal. “But since you asked nicely…” She leaned in closer seemingly so nobody else would hear, and she whispered to Musichetta, “Nope, not telling you.”

“Aw, come on, Éponine!” Musichetta whined, pouting and bouncing up and down, much like a child would. “You can’t just lean in like you were going to tell me something super confidential and do that instead!”

“Actually, I can,” Éponine responded smugly, grinning mischievously at her friend. “Go ask Enjolras himself.”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Musichetta shuddered and pulled her legs up to her chest, placing her empty plate of food beside her on the rug and rocking back and forth as she took in the heat of the fire. “Ep, everyone knows he’s got it bad for you, and now you’re pregnant with his kid.”

“So?” Éponine shifted uncomfortably in her spot, feeling her cheeks flush pink. Why did everyone have to keep bringing up the fact that Enjolras seemed to be so in love with her? She definitely didn’t need any more emotional baggage on top of hers, and yet here they were. “It’s not that big of a deal. He’ll get over it.”

“Oh, if you think he’s going to get over it when you two are going to be parents together, you’re dead wrong,” Musichetta told her plainly, always one to tell it like it is, taking a sip of the wine she had presumably stolen from Grantaire. “His crush on Feuilly was one thing, but this… this is on a whole other level. He’s head over heels, Éponine, and now you two are going to be parents together. I mean, you must be attracted to him in _some_ way if you slept with him, right? Who wouldn’t want to tap that ass?”

“I was drunk,” Éponine reminded Musichetta dryly, although the other woman’s words got her thinking. Well, she did feel _somewhat_ attracted to Enjolras’ physical attributes—there was no denying how handsome he was, with his defined jawline, his golden curls, those blue eyes of his, and _God_ , those arms and six-pack abs and that beautiful ass. She tapped that ass once. More than once, actually, if one counted the slow, passionate sex they had had the morning after. She could still taste his kisses, hear his low, strangled groans as the two of them slowly moved together at a hypnotic pace, still able to feel his face buried between her legs as he made her moan in sheer pleasure, his tongue making its way into her—

 _Focus_ , Éponine.

Musichetta had raised her eyebrows at Éponine’s sudden silence, and she smirked knowingly when Éponine finally snapped out of her trance and said, “Yeah, I was drunk. And we’re just friends, Chetta.”

“Friends who are going to be parents together,” Musichetta pointed out, folding her legs under her. “He’s really into you, Éponine, and he’s practically your boyfriend already—dare I say that you two seem basically married at this point? I mean, what with you two living together and all.”

“Us living together just happened to be convenient,” Éponine firmly told Musichetta. “It’s the closest to our workplaces, and he and I are best friends already, so why not?”

“You two are bound to wind up under the mistletoe at one point,” Musichetta commented rather offhandedly, changing the subject and gazing up at the numerous bundles of mistletoe hanging from various spots on the ceiling, from above the doorway to over the sink to just next to the mantel. “Jesus, Jehan really went overboard with the mistletoe, didn’t he?”

“Well, he’s the biggest sap we’ve ever met, so that’s no surprise,” Éponine replied matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes in amusement. “Smooches galore.” She got up, shivering slightly at the loss of warmth from the fireplace. “I’m going to the kitchen. There’s gotta be some ice cream and ketchup somewhere…”

“Gross.” Musichetta wrinkled her nose at Éponine’s words, getting up and going back over to Joly and Bossuet to wedge herself between them and take their food just as Éponine walked to the kitchen, where she found Enjolras alone at the island with a half-empty glass of wine.

“Hey!” she said in surprise, going to stand beside him.

Enjolras gave her a half-hearted smile, taking a sip of his wine. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?” she asked, bumping his hip with hers and grinning when she managed to draw a full-fledged, genuine smile from him. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. You didn’t even take shots during the movie!”

“I’m not looking to get drunk right now,” Enjolras told her, leaning against the island with his elbows on the counter. “I have a present for you back at home, by the way.”

“So do I.” Éponine gazed up at him rather curiously, wondering why he was acting so oddly. “You okay? Things aren’t going to be weird between us just because we’re going to be parents, right?”

“Cosette and your brother threatened me earlier,” he muttered, taking another sip of his wine. “They’d probably kill me if I ever hurt you. They’re just looking out for you, ’Ponine. They really love you. How are _you_ feeling?”

“Well, I feel like I really need to pee,” Éponine deadpanned in response, laughing at the look on Enjolras’ face. “We took one drunken trip to pound town and now here we are.”

“How many euphemisms for sex do you _know_?” Enjolras asked incredulously, staring at her and shaking his head. “Courf listed out a lot of them earlier.” Cringing, he muttered, “Of all the expressions he could have included, he decided to include ‘hot beef injection’…”

Éponine laughed out loud upon hearing Enjolras say those words, complete distaste evident in his tone. “Oh, I know a _lot_ of sex euphemisms, pretty boy,” she replied, grinning up at him and not quite noticing how he seemed to stop breathing momentarily when she affectionately called him pretty boy. “Taking a trip to pound town just happens to be my favourite.” She then turned around to open the freezer, rummaging around for ice cream and letting out an outraged little sigh when she found none. “Jehan, you really need to stock up on ice cream!” she shouted over her shoulder as she turned back to stand beside Enjolras at the island. “Well, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” she told him, reaching up to ruffle his golden curls. She was just about to leave before she was stopped by the sound of Courfeyrac’s voice.

“Don’t move!” he yelled, causing Éponine to freeze in her tracks. Was there a spider or something? He ran towards her and pushed her back towards Enjolras, telling her, “You two are under the mistletoe. Pucker up, lovebirds.”

“Courfeyrac, this is really fucking unnecessary—” Éponine was just about to slip away before Courfeyrac shoved her at Enjolras a bit too roughly, leading her to tripping and falling into Enjolras’ arms. She found herself staring up at him with wide brown eyes, wondering what the hell they’re going to do now. Enjolras felt as if he had stopped breathing when Éponine stumbled into his arms, staring back down at her, speechless.

“Come on, Ep, it’s tradition,” Courfeyrac reminded her. Éponine looked around to find that everyone else had frozen in place and were staring at her and Enjolras in anticipation, awaiting their next move. Feeling rather trapped, Éponine stood on tiptoe to quickly give a dazed Enjolras a peck on the cheek that lasted one split second before she slipped off to the bathroom, not even bothering to listen to the protests of everyone else behind her. Enjolras stared after her in a daze as she shut the bathroom door behind her, rather breathless after feeling her lips on his cheek, if only for a second. It was nothing she hadn’t done before, but it felt different somehow. Enjolras concluded that it was probably just the fact that all their friends had been staring, telling himself that it was nothing out of the ordinary for her to kiss him on the cheek.

Courfeyrac smirked knowingly and leaned in, telling Enjolras smugly, “Looks like someone’s W-I-P-E-D.”

“You just spelled wiped, not whipped,” Enjolras informed him flatly, giving Courfeyrac a look. “And I am not whipped? Get the bullshit mentality that sincerely loving someone and treating them right is being ‘whipped’ away from me.”

“So you admit it.” Courfeyrac grinned triumphantly when Enjolras turned scarlet as he realised what he had just said. “You love her.”

“Maybe so,” Enjolras replied in a low voice, seeing no point in trying to deny it anymore. All of his friends clearly saw through his lies anyway, and now they all knew that he and Éponine had slept together and he had knocked her up. “Fuck off. I need some time alone.”

“Okay, fine, no need to be so hostile. _Geez_.” Courfeyrac sauntered off to talk to Combeferre, making a “yikes” face.

Enjolras had finished his glass of wine by the time Éponine returned from the bathroom. “So I’m guessing I’ll be driving on the way home,” she said, looking up at him.

Enjolras didn’t seem that tipsy, but he was always one to stay on the safe side. “Yeah, I think that’ll be for the best.”

* * *

It was around ten o’clock at night by the time Éponine and Enjolras got home to their apartment, and she was more than ready to just collapse on her bed and sleep for the next sixteen hours. In fact, she was about to do exactly that before Enjolras ruined her plans by reminding her of something.

“Oh, yeah, your present,” he told her, a hint of a smile lighting up his face as he shut the door behind him and locked if after they had carried all of their friends’ Christmas presents to them inside. “It’s just under the tree.”

“Oh!” Éponine kicked her boots off and barely managed to hang her coat up on the hook before she ran over to the tree in the corner to find a little square package addressed to her in Enjolras’ neat, smooth handwriting, all wrapped up with a neat little bow on top and an envelope, presumably the card. He smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets as she ripped the wrapping paper apart to reveal a little Fujifilm Instax Mini 90, and she gave Enjolras a look. “You shouldn’t have!” she exclaimed as she opened the box and took out the actual camera itself, turning it over in her hands and observing it. “Why a camera in particular?” she asked as Enjolras sat down beside her.

“I just noticed how you wanted one,” he replied, shrugging and blushing sheepishly. “And we can use it to document the pregnancy and whatnot, if you’re up for that. And when Peanut is born, we’ll take pictures of Peanut with that camera, if you want to.” He smiled, a real, genuine smile lighting up his handsome face and bringing out those adorable eye crinkles of his. “Merry Christmas, ’Ponine.”

Éponine bit down on her lip to suppress the wide grin that threatened to break out on her face, and after some time in which she just turned the camera over in her hands, she exclaimed brightly, “Oh, I got you something!” She handed him the camera and got up, telling him, “It’s in my room, let me get it.” She skipped off to her room with a new spring in her step, returning shortly after with a guitar in her arms. “You mentioned that you took guitar lessons,” Éponine explained when she saw the look of shock on Enjolras’ face as she handed him the guitar.

“Yes, but that was when I was _sixteen_ ,” Enjolras reminded her, laughing as he took the guitar from her. “God, ’Ponine, how much did this cost? This looks expensive,” he murmured as he began to pluck the strings, testing it out. “It’s a really great one, too.”

“I saved up a little money,” Éponine replied airily, falling to her knees and putting her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder while he strummed the guitar to test it out. “I wanted to get the best possible present for the best roommate I’ve ever had,” she told him softly, pressing a light kiss to his cheek and making him blush pink. “Merry Christmas, ’Jolras.”

He smiled to himself when he felt her lips lightly brush his cheek, one hand reaching up to gently grasp her wrist as she hugged him from behind. It was nothing unusual for the both of them—they had grown even more closer than ever, ever since becoming roommates, and it had become completely normal for one of them to walk into the kitchen in the mornings and find the other one there, making breakfast in nothing but their underwear. They knew each other’s secrets and never hesitated to confide in each other, and even though they fought sometimes about the dumbest things like whose turn it was to do the laundry or the lack of food they had due to someone not having gone grocery shopping like they were supposed to, they always had each other to come home to.

“Do you remember anything from your guitar lessons?” Éponine questioned, leaning her head against his and smiling slightly when she felt his golden curls tickle her cheek.

“I think I remember some things,” Enjolras responded, beginning to tune the guitar before he began to pluck the strings, piecing together a little melody Éponine recognised as “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. Enjolras turned his head to give her the tiniest of smiles, the tip of his nose brushing hers as he began to softly sing along. She went back to resting her chin on his shoulder, practically able to hear the smile in his voice.

“Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you,” he sang softly, testing out the guitar and gently plucking at the strings. Éponine found herself smiling at the sound of his sweet, gentle voice, wondering why the hell he didn’t sing more often. “Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you? Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes; some things are meant to be… Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you…”

Éponine smiled to herself and bobbed her head slightly along to the music, hoping that Peanut would inherit their father’s angelic singing voice. _You’re going to love your daddy, Peanut,_ she thought as she absent-mindedly listened to Enjolras singing, paying no heed to the lyrics and just focusing on how well the sound of his voice and the music from the guitar blended together.

“God, Peanut’s lucky to have you as a dad,” Éponine whispered to Enjolras once he finished, putting the guitar down in his lap. “You’re fantastic.” After squeezing him tight in a hug, she murmured, “Want to watch something? _Elf_ , maybe?”

Enjolras turned his head to scrunch up his face at her. “That movie’s incredibly overrated, but if it will make you happy, then go for it.”

Moments later, they found themselves sitting on the couch in their living room with Éponine’s legs thrown over Enjolras’ lap, a big bowl of popcorn balanced in her own lap. Like she had done at her sister’s place, she had drizzled ketchup all over the popcorn, much to Enjolras’ revulsion, and she was eating it as if it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

“How are you eating that?” Enjolras asked incredulously as he munched on his own ketchup-free popcorn while Éponine licked ketchup off her fingers. “ _Why_ are you eating that?”

“Peanut wants ketchup,” Éponine reasoned, flicking a thankfully ketchup-free kernel at him, “so Peanut gets ketchup. Don’t blame me, blame your kid.”

“Are you going to be using Peanut against me for the next seven months?” Enjolras pretended to groan, feigning exasperation as he tried to hide his smile at his best friend’s antics.

“Afraid so, bud,” Éponine replied, pretending to be apologetic. “I’ll be the one who has to deal with your spawn ruining my perfect body, so it all evens out.”

“Oh, so Peanut is just my kid now?” Enjolras rolled his eyes and reached out to take her hand, telling her sincerely, “I think you’ll still look just as perfect after Peanut is born.”

Éponine turned red at his casual little comment as he squeezed her hand. “Okay, stop that,” she scolded him, trying to hide her blush behind her free, ketchup-covered hand. “You’re making me all mushy and shit. Stop it. No.”

“Well, that’s what I think,” he replied candidly, lacing his fingers through hers as she continued to devour her popcorn and ketchup. Feeling her cheeks burn, Éponine directed her attention back to the movie and tried not to think too much about Enjolras holding her hand, not even bothering to pull her hand away.

By the time the movie ended, Éponine was asleep, the empty popcorn bowl in her lap lopsided and threatening to turn over, her grip on Enjolras’ hand having loosened over the course of the movie. He turned his head to find her asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily and her dark hair falling into her face. He took his hand out of hers and gently removed her legs from his lap, slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, and stood up, taking the popcorn bowl to place on the coffee table before he picked her up in his arms bridal-style, carrying her to her bedroom. Once he had tucked her in, he went back to the living room to bring her the present he had gotten for her, placing it on her nightstand so she’d see it first thing in the morning and hoping she’d read the letter he had written for her.

Once he had made sure she was all right and tucked in, he went back to the living room to play around with his new guitar some more before he noticed the envelope taped to the back of the guitar for the first time. Pulling it off, he tore the envelope open and a letter and photograph fell out. Intrigued, he picked up the photograph first, feeling his lips curl into the faintest smile at the memories that came back upon seeing the picture—it was a photograph of the both of them standing in front of Hogwarts at Universal Studios from last Christmas, pointing their wands at the camera, Éponine dressed in full Gryffindor uniform and Enjolras in Hufflepuff, scarves and robes and all. Smiling to himself at the memories from that trip, he unfolded the letter and began to read it.

 _Merry Christmas, Enjolras! I hope you like this guitar I got you, and I hope you’ll use it to serenade me—and Peanut, once Peanut is born. You have to serenade me with it, okay? It’s only fair. It’s been a crazy few weeks for us, hasn’t it? Ever since we found you fucking_ impregnated _me, you_ asshole _._

_Just kidding. There’s no one else I’d rather have as my baby daddy._

_I don’t know how exactly things will work out, but it will. Peanut’s going to have the best daddy ever, I can already tell. I don’t think I’ve told you this before, pretty boy, but you’re really fucking good in bed. I didn’t really expect that. Not because you look like someone who’d be bad in bed! Just because you’re just so… stoic? You’re the marble man, and I guess I didn’t really think the marble man did such things like having hot, sweaty, naked sex._

_I’m sorry. I just can’t put my thoughts into words right now. You get it though, right?_

_Anyway, I’m just glad that I have you as a roomie/best friend/baby daddy. You’re one of the best people ever. I can’t thank you enough. Again, merry Christmas, bestie._

_Love, Éponine._

Enjolras smiled to himself and folded up the letter to tuck away in his pocket along with the photograph as he stood up and walked back to his room, taking his clothes off. He just needed to forget about these stupid feelings for her already, since she had made absolutely no indication that she felt the same way about him, but she just made it so damn hard to do so. Now she was pregnant with his baby too, so there was no _way_ he was ever going to get over it now.

Falling back into bed in his boxers and tank top, staring up at the ceiling, he sighed, trying hard—and promptly failing—to not think about how they had nearly kissed in that closet earlier. What was he going to do now?


	7. Chapter VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: brief sexual content in the beginning of the chapter, in italics.

* * *

_“Oh, ’Jolras—” Éponine giggled as she and Enjolras stumbled blindly through through the hallway on the way to his room, their lips basically fused together, unable to keep their hands off each other. He pinned her against the wall, kissing her fiercely, low growls sounding from the back of his throat as she jumped up on top of him, hooking her legs around his waist and tangling her fingers in his curls, kissing him back equally enthusiastically. He blindly felt around for the doorknob to his room and eventually found it, opening the door and nearly causing the both of them to fall into his room before she jumped down, still kissing him passionately as they stumbled and fell backwards into his bed. Her hands found the buttons of his shirt and she began to undo them one by one, desperate to get his shirt off, and eventually she grew impatient and ripped it off, popping several buttons, and he pulled away momentarily to pull her shirt over her head. Once she had disposed of their shirts, his lips met hers once more in a fierce kiss, their tongues entwining as soft moans escaped her lips._

_She could feel the prominent bulge at his crotch rub up against her as she grabbed his wrists and brought his hands to her back so he could unclasp her bra, and before he could do so, he pulled away to gaze into her eyes, his blue eyes wide. “’Ponine, what are we doing?” he asked hoarsely, some of his golden curls plastered to his forehead with sweat._

_“I don’t know. Don’t stop.” She pulled him back into a furious kiss, moaning softly when he finally unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, his hand finding one of her breasts and beginning to massage it gently, the sound of her moans nearly making him lose his mind. He was painfully erect at that point, just begging for release, as she tugged his pants off so he’d be in nothing but boxers. She could feel her panties grow wet as goosebumps erupted along her skin from the feeling of him touching her without hesitation or restraint, his hands roaming over her body, and she nearly screamed when she felt his large hand finding its way into her panties, pressing two long fingers into her wet folds._

_“Oh, Enjolras…” A breathless sigh escaped her lips as two digits found their way into her core, evoking a moan from the young woman._

_“Is this okay?” Enjolras asked, stopping momentarily. Éponine nodded quickly and let out a loud moan, arching her back when he began to scissor and pump, his long fingers going to work inside her. Spurred on by her moans, he picked up speed, entranced by the way she writhed beneath him, grabbing at the sheets and arching her back, her hips bucking as she squealed his name. He didn’t stop, continuing to pump even after she went limp on the bed, seeing stars behind her eyes and screaming his name, breathing heavily as she came down from her high._

_Soon, her hands were cupping his jaw and she was pulling him down into another, far more tender kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I love you, ’Jolras.”_

Éponine woke up with a gasp, tangled in the sheets and feeling sweat dripping from her forehead along with a certain dampness between her legs. She sat up in bed, breathing heavily, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the dream she had just awoken from.

No! That certainly wasn’t the first naughty dream she had had, but Enjolras had never been present in them before. Up until now, the subject of her graphic dreams had usually been Marius or Cosette, or in some instances the both of them, and then Grantaire at one utterly bizarre point, but _never_ Enjolras. What the fuck did this _mean_?

 _Oh, God…_ Éponine grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw that it was four in the morning on New Year’s Eve, a little under a week after that Christmas party. The nausea from the pregnancy had decreased considerably, but as the days passed, Éponine found that she was becoming more fatigued and turning into a complete horn dog for some fucking reason.

She flashed back to the dream, knowing perfectly well that those abs and arms weren’t just a figment of her imagination—she had actually seen him in all of his naked glory, when they had had hot, fast, drunken sex on the night of his birthday, the night Peanut was conceived, and then slow, passionate sex the morning after. She shivered and pulled her legs to her chest, hugging her knees.

What the fuck was her mind trying to tell her? Why did she have a graphic dream about _Enjolras_ , of all people?

She caught herself thinking about just how attractive he was—a few of the Amis had made constant comparisons of his appearance to that of a Greek god for as long as she’s known them, having given him the nickname “Apollo” back in their first year of college, and honestly, Éponine couldn’t blame them for it—he was very pretty, almost unfairly so, with that hair and those eyes and that fucking _jawline_ of his, and then those perfectly cut arms and his chiselled abs and then below the belt, his—

She was going to stop right there.

Éponine’s eyes widened when she realised that for _some_ reason, she was starting to think of Enjolras as more than just a friend all because of a stupid dream she had. Why did dreams always do this? She remembered the time she had developed the briefest of crushes on Combeferre just because she had a cute, innocent little dream about him, and she _hated_ how she was always _that_ person to become infatuated with someone after having a dream about them. It wasn’t even infatuation with the actual person themselves—it was infatuation with the version of that person her mind had come up with in a dream. She cringed to think about what her dream self had said before she woke up, hating herself for dreaming that.

Oh, _fuck_.

She _lusted_ for Enjolras.

Well. _Shit._

* * *

Quite a few hours later, after she had decided to go back to sleep and proceed to sleep in until nine-thirty, Éponine woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes wafting from the kitchen, causing her to slowly rise and drift out of her room to find Enjolras in the kitchen, cooking in nothing but his boxers and an NYU hoodie. She tried not to stare as he turned and smiled at the sight of her standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of his sweatshirts, which was massive on her and fell to her knees, probably with lacy lingerie underneath.

“Oh, good, you’re up.” He slid her a plate of bacon as she approached the kitchen counter. “I made you breakfast.” Éponine flung open the refrigerator door and poured herself a glass of orange juice before grabbing the plate, and she tried desperately not to think about the dream she had had earlier and went to sit at the counter as Enjolras made food, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“How’re you?” Éponine mumbled, stuffing some bacon in her mouth and sighing at the heavenly taste. “Happy New Year’s Eve.”

“Fine, I suppose.” Enjolras tossed some pancakes onto his plate and went to sit by Éponine, drizzling maple syrup over the pancakes. “Do you want to go to Times Square for the ball drop tonight? Everyone else is going to be there too.”

“Why not?” Éponine continued to stuff bacon into her mouth, her voice thick and muffled as she spoke. “Just a few more days and then it’s back to school I go, teaching art to those little shits.” She laughed halfheartedly to herself, taking a sip of her orange juice. “I guess I better tell Javert that I’m knocked up soon.” She turned and lightly pummelled Enjolras in the shoulder, feigning a scowl as she said, “Thanks for impregnating me, _asshole_.”

“’Ponine, you didn’t have to keep the baby if you didn’t want to,” Enjolras reminded her, unfazed by her little comment and chuckling to himself.

“Nah, I want to keep Peanut,” Éponine replied immediately, her voice rather thick due to all the food in her mouth. She then thought about what her students would think—she taught moody, hormonal high schoolers, teenagers, the oldest of whom were only about five years younger than her, who probably knew at this point where babies come from. Realising this, she groaned loudly as she swallowed her food, slamming her fist on the counter. “Ah, fuck!”

“What is it?” Enjolras asked in alarm, turning his head to look at her, his blue eyes full of concern at her sudden outburst.

“Shit, now those little shits will know I had sex!” Éponine bemoaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. Enjolras stifled a laugh upon finding out that _that_ was what she had been so upset about as she continued,  “They know I don’t have a significant other at the moment; those little shits have the absolute nerve to ask me about my sex life all the goddamn time, I had to tell them I didn’t have a datemate! Now they’ll pester me about who the baby daddy is! Shit, what if they think the father is some guy I hooked up with once at a bar?” she cried out, exaggerating her distress.

“They won’t think that,” Enjolras assured her, putting an arm around the brunette. “I’ll come visit you at your school and then tell your kids that I’m the father.”

“But then they’ll know I had sex with _you_ ,” Éponine pointed out, sticking out her bottom lip petulantly. “And then they’re bound to ask me questions about how I got someone so hot to sleep with me, and ugh, teenagers can be the actual _worst_ sometimes.”

“You were one of them not too long ago,” Enjolras reminded her, patting her back and trying not to think too much about how she had called him hot. “We both were.”

Éponine feigned a glare at him. “Your point is?”

“Never mind.”

Once she had finished her breakfast, Éponine dragged herself over to the living room to binge-watch a few Disney movies in an attempt to pass the time, feeling rather dissatisfied for some peculiar reason. For some reason, her mind began to wander to thoughts of the times she had spent with Grantaire and his dog Toby, and she called out to Enjolras in the middle of _The Princess and the Frog_ , “We should get a dog. A dog would be like Peanut but on easy mode, and my body wouldn’t be ruined by a dog.”

“Just get R to come over and bring his Yorkie if you want to play with a dog that badly,” Enjolras called back from God knows where. Éponine assumed he was back in his room, having heard the faint sounds of his violin from that general direction.

“You’re no fun!” Éponine yelled, curling up into a little ball and pouting.

“We’re going to have Peanut to think about, ’Ponine!” Enjolras shouted back from wherever he was. “A dog would be a bit too much!”

Éponine sighed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. She knew he was right, but even so… She decided to pull her phone out and text Grantaire, wondering where the hell he was on that New Year’s Eve. He merely responded with a picture of him and Toby grinning at the camera in Central Park, where he was, once again, sketching people to make some extra cash. She grinned and shook her head, wondering why he wouldn’t just take a job as an art teacher like she had. He was excellent enough at it. He was probably even better.

As the movie went on, Éponine began to ignore it, instead thinking about the dream she had had and wondering why the hell _Enjolras_ had been the subject of one of her graphic dreams. She couldn’t possibly be feeling things for him—he was just her best friend and roommate, nothing more than that. Yes, she had slept with him, but that had been under the influence of alcohol! She hadn’t acted on her actual feelings for him! Had she?

She just slept with him once and promptly became pregnant with his baby. That had absolutely _nothing_ to do with what she felt about him. Did it? They had one drunken night of passion in which they took an _immensely_ satisfying trip to pound town, and then they had proceeded to cuddle naked afterwards, finally falling asleep with her wrapped up in his arms. It had only been one night. They were still just friends who happened to be having a child together. They could make this whole thing work out.

But then there had been the morning after. She was unable to explain that odd feeling she got from being in his arms, feeling safe in his embrace as they talked of the universe and complained of hangovers, sunlight streaming in through his window. And then there had been the kiss—she had initiated it, she had no idea _what_ she had been thinking, but she had initiated the kiss. He had responded quite enthusiastically, kissing her back and slowly lowering her to the bed for another couple of rounds, soft moans and sighs and groans resounding through the room as they slowly made love, a lot more patient and gentle than they had been the previous night. The feeling of his lips on hers… She quickly stopped thinking about that, not wanting to be confused by her feelings even further.

Was this just the pregnancy hormones going crazy? She had heard that some pregnant people were complete horn dogs, and maybe she just happened to be one of them and was only beginning to think about Enjolras in a whole different light because he was physically the closest person to her. Had she lived with Grantaire or Musichetta or _whomever_ , she’s sure she would’ve felt about them what she was feeling now about Enjolras. She would!

Even so, that didn’t stop her breath from catching in her throat when Enjolras came into the living room, still wearing nothing but boxers and a sweatshirt, a soft smile on his face, that smile he seemed to have reserved just for her. He brought her a bowl of ketchup-covered popcorn and sat down beside her, saying, “I figured you’d want some company.”

“’Jolras, you didn’t have to,” Éponine told him, shoving him lightly as she began to stuff the popcorn he had brought her into her mouth, licking ketchup off her fingers in the process. Aww—he had thought about her and her cravings. How sweet.

 _No!_ Éponine fiercely told herself. _Stop that! Enjolras is just a friend, for fuck’s sake! This is just the hormones! I think!_

Éponine yawned and slumped down further on the sofa, pouting rather petulantly and curling up into herself. She was barely eleven weeks, and growing a baby was already exhausting.

She barely moved from her spot on the sofa until five o’clock, passing the time by watching Disney movies, trying to work out her feelings and feeling rather surprised when she found that the mere thought of Marius or Cosette or the both of them didn’t give her as many butterflies as they used to, and listening to Enjolras test out his new guitar and occasionally play either the piano or violin he had in his room. Around five minutes to five, he came back into the living room to pull her to her feet, rather disheartened by how she was just lying around looking rather miserable.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he pulled her up, reaching out to steady her when she stumbled slightly.

“Just tired,” she replied quietly, brushing the hair out of her face and giving him a rather weary smile. “Kind of dizzy. I’ll be fine, ’Jolras. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He smiled encouragingly at her and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, something he had developed a habit of doing, and Éponine could practically feel her heart skip a beat before she furiously scolded herself for getting so worked up over a stupid, meaningless, friendly little kiss. “You should get ready,” Enjolras told her, cupping her jaw in his large hand and caressing her cheek with his thumb. “We should get going soon. The others will meet us at the subway station in Times Square.”

“Okay.” Éponine watched as Enjolras disappeared into his room, going back to her own room once he was out of sight to rummage about in her closet for some nice clothes to wear. After eventually deciding on numerous sweaters underneath a massive hoodie of Enjolras’, two layers of thermals underneath her jeans, boots, her black knee-length fur-trimmed winter coat, and her brown newsboy cap, she went back to the living room to wait for Enjolras to appear.

When he came out of his room, he was dressed in his burgundy winter coat, a nice black scarf, black jeans, boots, and a grey beanie on top of his head with some of his golden curls sticking out from underneath. Jesus, why did he always look so effortlessly attractive all the damn time? Éponine got to her feet and went over to him, plastering a dimpled smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and soon enough, the two of them were out in the wintry, snow-covered streets of New York.

“Why is it so goddamn cold?” Éponine grumbled as she and Enjolras stood on the subway platform, waiting for their train to come by. The two of them knew the New York subway like the back of their hand, and once Enjolras had found a seat for Éponine near the back of the train, the two of them were on their way to Times Square to meet up with everybody else.

Once they had gotten off at the Times Square subway station, the New Year’s Eve celebrations were already in full swing, and once they had met up with everyone else outside the station, Éponine felt as if her headache had gotten worse but said nothing of it, not wanting to ruin the coming of the new year for her friends. Éponine allowed Enjolras to pull her close to his side as they and their friends made their way through security before being escorted to a vacant pen relatively near to the stage. Combeferre noticed how pale Éponine seemed to be, her olive skin having gone rather white, immediately growing concerned and rushing over to her and Enjolras.

“Éponine, are you okay?” he asked in worry, cupping her jaw in his hand as Enjolras stole a sideways glance at the young woman.

She mustered a smile back at him. “I’m fine, ’Ferre,” she replied, although she sounded as if she was trying to reassure herself more than him. In truth, she was rather light-headed and feeling faint, but she was sure it was nothing to worry about. There was no reason to get everyone else all unnecessarily worked up.

Combeferre furrowed his brow at her words but said nothing else, merely giving her another look of worry at how pale she was before going to talk to Courfeyrac, and Éponine let out a tiny gasp as her hand flew up to her forehead, leaning against Enjolras and crying out softly at the sharp pain that went shooting through her temple.

“’Ponine, are you all right?” Enjolras asked in alarm, steadying her and helping her get back on her feet as she stumbled slightly, feeling even more light-headed and nauseous than ever.

“ _Y_ _es_ , Enjolras,” she replied, trying her best to be firm despite her feeble tone of voice as she pressed a hand to her abdomen. “Don’t worry about me. It’s New Year’s Eve! Don’t let little ol’ me ruin all your fun,” she told him, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as he fixed her with a look, concern in his blue eyes.

After merely staring at her for several agonising moments, he sighed and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately, mumbling into her hair, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“ _Yes_ , ’Jolras,” she reassured him once he had pulled away from her, giving him another little smile and feeling her stomach do a little somersault when he smiled back, although a mild look of worry was still evident in his eyes. She stood on tiptoe to press a light kiss to his cheek, drawing back and not quite noticing how he turned red under the bright lights of Times Square as she told him firmly, “I’ll be fine. I’m just feeling a little light-headed. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so.” Enjolras, his arm still tightly wrapped around her shoulders, looked up to gaze around at the blinding lights of Times Square, taking in the sights and occasionally exchanging a few words with the others. Éponine smiled to herself at the contented look on Enjolras’ face—he wasn’t as tense and uptight as he typically was, letting his guard down and allowing himself to enjoy the celebrations. If there was one thing Éponine was proud of since she moved in with him, it was how she had taught him to have fun, to not always have a stick shoved far up his ass, and her hard work had certainly paid off—he was interacting with the others with ease, a hint of a smile on his face as he spoke with them of New Year’s resolutions and plans for the new year and the like, his arm still around her. Trying not to think about her headache too much, she gazed up at the Times Square Ball, cheerfully awaiting the new year and ignoring the ever-insistent pounding in her head.

Éponine turned her head to gaze at Marius and Cosette, who were engaged in animated conversation and seeming as happy as they typically were, and she caught herself smiling at how delighted the two of them seemed to be. For what felt like the first time, she found that she wasn’t envious of either of them; instead, she was content at the sight of them so cheerful and in love, surprised that she wasn’t wishing that could be her for once and delighted at the realisation that she was beginning to get over it. She looked up to gaze at Enjolras, who seemed rather occupied at the moment by an advertisement of some new musical beginning previews soon, and she caught herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind awfully if he kissed her just then before she stopped herself from thinking about it.

About an hour to midnight, Enjolras had detached himself from Éponine to go talk to Combeferre, leaving Éponine in Grantaire’s hands as the two of them conversed easily between themselves. “So, Ep, can I be the godfather of your kid?”

Éponine let out a loud, dry laugh, lightly smacking Grantaire’s arm as she replied, “I mean, I see no problem with it, but I’m sure ’Jolras would have a fit. Nothing against you, R, but you’re just…” She trailed off, not finishing the sentence for fear of hurting his feelings.

“Not responsible enough?” Grantaire had a good-natured grin gracing his lips, and when Éponine nodded sheepishly, he sniggered and told her, “I don’t blame you. I can barely take care of my own baby half the time.”

“Nonsense, Toby’s got a great dad,” Éponine contradicted, grinning up at him and momentarily forgetting about the sharp pains shooting through her temple. It had been going on for a few hours now, but surely it was nothing to worry about, right? “He’s with your sister right now, right?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire confirmed, swaying slightly from side to side to the sound of the music. “Rachelle’s got it all under control.”

“Raoul and Rachelle,” Éponine remarked rather absently, chuckling to herself at how Grantaire’s parents had given him and his sister, who was younger than him by a year and a half, alliterative names, and Grantaire made a face upon hearing his first name being spoken by Éponine. She had always wondered why he didn’t like his first name, but she never bothered to ask, figuring that he would tell her sooner or later.

After some time in which Éponine disregarded her dizziness and she and Grantaire just eavesdropped on their other friends’ conversations, listening to Marius and Cosette discuss wedding plans, hearing Joly and Bossuet singing rather rowdily as Musichetta watched on with an exasperated smile on her face, and seeing Courfeyrac looking as if he was staring at Azelma rather longingly as she conversed with Gavroche, Grantaire turned back to Éponine and wiggled his eyebrows, asking slyly, “So, Ep, you getting a New Year’s kiss tonight?”

Éponine shoved him aside, feigning a scowl as she replied, “No. You know damn well that I’ve been single for six months now, R.”

Éponine didn’t fail to notice how Grantaire said nothing else but immediately looked over at Enjolras, who was still engaged in conversation with Combeferre, and, guessing Grantaire’s thoughts, she promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Grantaire responded innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You were thinking it,” Éponine retorted, feeling her cheeks flame red at Grantaire’s implications. Her feelings for Enjolras were all strictly platonic, and that stupid dream she had had last night certainly wasn’t an indication of any further feelings than that. She was just really horny lately and the fact that she had nobody to satisfy her needs irritated her immensely—she doubted that anyone would want to have sex with some knocked up chick.

Grantaire merely smirked and winked at her before going off to talk to Jehan, and shortly after she was left to her own devices, Enjolras approached her once again, hesitantly sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Is this okay?” he asked, uncertainty lingering in his tone.

Éponine bowed her head and smiled to herself, feeling strangely giddy for no obvious reason as she slid her own slender arm around his waist. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

It was about twenty minutes to midnight, and Éponine subconsciously laid her head on Enjolras’ shoulder in an attempt to ease her lightheadedness as they gazed up at the Times Square Ball, listening to the tipsy people all around singing at the top of their lungs, laughter ringing out through the frigid air. Éponine shivered at the cold and moved in closer to Enjolras, taking advantage of his warmth and letting out a little contented sigh, still looking down at the slush-covered ground and not noticing how his cheeks flushed red. She thought about how lucky she was to be standing here on New Year’s Eve, standing beside her best friend and the father of her baby, until she felt another sharp pain shoot through her temple.

Unable to keep her little cry of agony at bay, she stumbled once again and fell against Enjolras’ side, the golden-haired man catching her immediately. “’Ponine, is something wrong?” he asked anxiously, helping her get back on her feet and reaching out to grab her arms, steadying her. He had talked with Combeferre earlier about it, questioning her stubbornness and her insistence that she was all right when she clearly didn’t seem to be, but he hadn’t expected this.

“I’m just dizzy, ’Jolras,” Éponine tried to reassure him, forcing herself into standing up straight once again. “I told you, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Enjolras didn’t seem convinced but he said nothing more of it, knowing how Éponine tended to get defensive and close herself off whenever someone kept asking her if she was all right after she insisted that she was. Even so, he couldn’t help but tell her, “If you want to go home, just tell me, okay?”

Éponine turned her head to grin up at him, her grin not quite as genuine as it usually was as she replied evenly, “I’m fine, Enjolras. Stop worrying.”

The two of them stood in silence until about three minutes to midnight, which was when the crowds really began to scream in anticipation of the coming new year. The roar of the crowd was overwhelming Éponine and her headache was growing even worse as she leaned more and more against Enjolras, using him as a crutch. After she managed to get back on her feet once again, someone from behind her bumped into her and she went stumbling into Enjolras’ arms, finding herself staring up into his surprised blue eyes as he caught her, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. It was a minute until midnight, and everyone else’s eyes were on the ball while Éponine simply stared up at Enjolras, completely at a loss as to what to do as she became even dizzier for no discernible reason. She found herself stealing quick glances at his lips as the countdown continued—had they always looked that inviting? Unthinkingly, she began to lean in, vaguely noticing how he seemed to stop breathing momentarily before he started leaning in too, his face drifting in and out of focus.

 _What’s happening?_ Éponine wondered, struggling to catch a breath as she began to feel even fainter with each passing moment, still leaning in, Enjolras’ face drawing closer. Ten seconds to go… five…

When shouts and screams of “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” rang out from the crowds, deafening Éponine, her lips were mere millimetres from Enjolras’ before everything went black.

* * *

“COMBEFERRE!”

Enjolras’ first instinct was to shout frantically for his oldest friend over the thunderous roar of the crowds when Éponine lost balance and fainted into his arms mere moments before their lips could meet as the clock struck midnight, marking the start of the new year, and all of the Amis turned at the sound of Enjolras’ shout and Combeferre immediately rushed towards him as Enjolras scooped up an unconscious Éponine in his arms, worry and fear coursing through his veins. Cosette and Marius broke apart and the former let out a terrified gasp at the sight of a pallid Éponine unconscious in Enjolras’ arms.

The Amis all began to crowd the two despite Combeferre’s words, and as the crowds began to disperse, Enjolras found it easier to breathe as he carried Éponine down into the subway station with the others close behind, ignoring the odd looks they were attracting. Everyone was staring curiously at the group of friends, one of whom was carrying an unconscious, sickly-looking young woman, and Combeferre began to shoo them away, telling them quietly, “Run along, there’s nothing to see here. Go.”

It made Enjolras recall his own words when people stared as Éponine threw up in one of the trash bins before that first appointment. Had that really only been four weeks ago? It felt like it had been a lifetime to him as he carried her into the train, finding them all seats in a corner of the train car and carefully sitting down, Éponine still in his arms. She seemed to be breathing, albeit faintly, and he couldn’t help but worry himself sick about her and Peanut, fear racing through his entire body as he tried his best to steady his breathing, telling himself that he needed to be calm for whatever was about to happen. Six agonising stops later, they finally got off and made their way to Éponine and Enjolras’ place, all fifteen of them crammed into the apartment as Enjolras went to gently, carefully set Éponine down on the sofa once they took off her coat and their own coats, trying not to let his unimaginable worry get to him.

A long silence fell upon the Amis as they all stared at Éponine’s unconscious form, the young woman barely breathing, and Enjolras felt tears begin to prick his eyes at the thought of losing her or Peanut, or even worse, both. At long last, Gavroche broke the silence, asking timidly, “What’s happening?”

Combeferre opened his mouth to answer before he went quiet, merely staring at Éponine, at a loss as to what to do. Instead, he turned to Enjolras, asking him quietly, “What happened, exactly?”

“She told me she was just fine,” Enjolras muttered, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. It could only be his fault—it had to be, since he had gotten her knocked up in the first place, which had led to the morning sickness and the dizziness, which in turn had led to _this_. “I—I don’t know, we were—” He cleared his throat, choosing to omit the fact that they had almost kissed and saying instead, “The clock struck midnight and then she just… fainted.”

Combeferre went over to kneel beside the sofa, gently shaking Éponine in an attempt to rouse her. After several lengthy, painfully silent moments, her brown eyes blinked open and she sat bolt upright before letting out a little cry and lying down again, feeling that same odd light-headed feeling she had felt earlier that night. “What happened?” she asked feebly, finding a throw pillow to place underneath her head as she looked up at all the frightened, apprehensive faces all around her.

“You fainted,” Combeferre told her gently, placing a hand on top of hers when she started to sit up, silently telling her to lie back down. “Feeling faint and being dizzy is pretty common in early pregnancy, but if you actually do faint, you really should see your doctor. Why didn’t you tell us what was really going on?”

“I—I didn’t want to ruin the night for all of you,” Éponine replied quietly, her voice barely audible.

“Éponine, telling us you weren’t feeling well wouldn’t have ruined our night,” Combeferre told her, his voice soft and somewhat calming as he took her hand. “We want what’s best for you and the baby. You know that, right? We’ll support you no matter what.”

“I didn’t—” Éponine coughed suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Eppy, why would we be mad at you?” Marius piped up, his green eyes finding her brown, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at his eyes on hers; yet, she didn’t feel as if her tongue was in a twist the way it used to feel whenever Marius gave her the slightest bit of attention, and she frowned to herself at the realisation. “If you told us you weren’t feeling well, we would have gone home with you. We wouldn’t have complained. You know we love you no matter what, right?”

Éponine couldn’t find any words to reply to Marius with, and instead, she began to sit up, little by little, and she looked around at all of the Amis. All of their eyes were on her except for one pair.

She noticed how Enjolras was staring down pointedly at his feet, breathing rather heavily and seeming rather tense, his fists clenched at his side and a look of guilt and anger on his face. She had seen this behaviour from him far too often now—he was blaming himself for what had happened, probably thinking about all he could have done to stop this from happening, and Éponine absolutely wasn’t going to let him tear himself up like that like he had done so many times before.

She leaned over to whisper something in Combeferre’s ear, who nodded in understanding and quietly motioned for all the rest of their friends to move into the kitchen to give Éponine and Enjolras some space. By the time the sliding door to the kitchen had slid shut, Éponine murmured, “’Jolras?”

“I could have prevented this,” Enjolras said quietly, his voice quivering with restrained anger and self-hatred and taking Éponine by surprise. She had never heard that tone of voice come out of his mouth before. “I—I could have used a fucking condom, I _should_ have used a fucking condom, this never would have happened and you never would have gotten knocked up because of me and then you never would have fainted and—”

“ _Enjolras_.” Éponine’s tone of voice was unusually stern, and he finally looked up, blue eyes meeting brown. Éponine noticed how he had tears welling up in his eyes and she immediately felt like crying upon seeing him look like he was fighting hard not to cry, reaching out for him as he took large steps towards her and took a seat beside her, trying to keep the tears at bay as she took his hands in hers, holding them tight. Observing how he looked as if he was trying to hold back tears, she squeezed his hands in reassurance, whispering, “It’s okay to cry, ’Jolras.”

Enjolras let a single tear slide down his cheek, reaching up almost immediately to wipe it away and chuckling rather derisively, almost as if he was mocking himself. “This is all my fault,” he muttered, looking down at their clasped hands.

“No, it’s not,” Éponine replied sharply, surprised at the fierceness in her own tone. “Enjolras, you need to stop blaming yourself for everything bad that happens. Contrary to what you think, sometimes things that happen are out of your control. We have that next appointment with Dr. Bourrienne in five days, right? We’ll ask her about it then.” Éponine squeezed his hands once again, her voice much gentler as she said softly, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, ’Jolras.”

He looked down, averting his gaze as he mumbled, “I don’t want anything bad happening to you and Peanut, ’Ponine. I was so scared of losing you when you fainted.”

“I know that,” she replied, her voice soft. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Don’t apologise,” he muttered. He just stared down at their clasped hands for a few moments more before he finally looked up, blue eyes finding brown as he began rather tentatively, “So… about earlier… before you fainted—”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Éponine cut him off, her face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet upon remembering how she had impulsively leaned in to kiss him before fainting into his arms seconds before her lips could meet his. “I wasn’t really in my right mind. I was pretty light-headed at that point.”

“Oh. Okay.” Enjolras looked down once again, trying not to feel hurt at her words and telling himself there must be a more reasonable explanation behind it. He was willing to wait for her, even if she never did turn out to reciprocate his feelings, and he knew in that very moment that he was too far gone to even think about being in love with anyone else. How could he be? She was pregnant with his baby, for fuck’s sake, he had known from the moment he found out she was pregnant that he would never be able to see anyone else in the way he saw her.

The question was, did she see him too?

Shaking his head almost imperceptibly to get that thought out of his mind, Enjolras stood up and reached out, helping Éponine to her feet before letting out an inaudible gasp of surprise when she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and burying her face in his chest. Rather hesitantly, he hugged her back, one of his hands reaching up to cradle her head as she let out a strange little sob-laugh, muffled by his shirt. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tight. “Thank you so much for everything, ’Jolras. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”

Enjolras smiled to himself at her words, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he replied softly, “Anytime, ’Ponine.”

On the other side of the sliding door, the Amis were all crammed into the kitchen, a good portion of them having their ears pressed up against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop. Once they came to the disappointing conclusion that nothing particularly romantically spectacular had happened, they all groaned, careful to keep their voices low.

“When the hell is it going to happen?” Musichetta complained, banging her head against the refrigerator door.

“Alas, you can’t force love,” Courfeyrac sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart and heedless of how Azelma gave him a look behind his back.

Grantaire went over and slid open the door just a tiny crack, glimpsing Éponine and Enjolras locked in a tight embrace right there in the living room, and he smiled to himself as he carefully slid the door shut once again and turned around to face the others. “They’ll come to their senses eventually. I just know it.”

Combeferre was standing alone in a corner, twiddling his thumbs as he pondered the events of that night. Even if nobody else had, he had seen how Éponine and Enjolras were seconds away from kissing at midnight before she fainted, and he would be lying if he said there wasn’t an overwhelming amount of sparks between the two. Éponine may not have realised it yet, but Combeferre was certain that she had feelings for Enjolras, even if she herself was completely unaware of them and was instead laying all her affection on the wrong two people. He knew better than to interfere, though, leaving him to only hope that things will work out for his two best friends.

In that fleeting moment, the one thing he was completely sure of was that he was rooting for them.


	8. Chapter VIII

* * *

January fifth was a dreary day.

Éponine woke up at nine in the morning to find that there had been a snowstorm overnight, looking out her window at the piles of powder-white snow coating the streets, immediately noticing how there were barely any people out walking on the pavement and that the streets hadn’t been cleared of snow just yet. Groaning as she rolled over in bed, her tangled hair falling into her eyes, she reached over to grab her phone off the nightstand and check her calendar, remembering that she had her appointment with Dr. Bourrienne today. Another appointment and then in three days, she would be going back to school, back to teaching those moody, hormonal, accident-prone teenagers. She remembered what she had been like when she was their age—God, she had been insufferable, and she supposed this was all just karma coming back to kick her in the ass. No matter—she loved her students all the same, trying her damn best to treat them better than her own teachers had treated her in her formative years.

“’Jolras?” Éponine called out, her tone slightly petulant as she lay back in bed, refusing to get up just yet and grabbing some of the Polaroid pictures she had taken since she received the camera from Enjolras for Christmas, looking through them absent-mindedly. Within moments, he had appeared in the doorway, almost as if he had expected her to call out for him. Suppressing a smile at the thought, she gestured for him to come join her on the bed, and he tentatively sat down at the edge of the mattress as she sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Noticing how he seemed to be rather tense, she reached out to take his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. “You okay?” she asked tenderly, cocking her head to try to catch his eye.

Enjolras gave her a little half-smile, shrugging. “I really don’t know, ’Ponine,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I’m trying my hardest not to sound cheesy right now, but really, what are we?”

Éponine went still. “What—what do you mean?” she asked, wondering why she felt as if her heart had skipped a beat. After taking a moment to compose herself, she amended, “What do you want us to be?”

Enjolras bit his lip and looked down at their intertwined hands. “Do you want the truth?”

“Go for it,” Éponine replied, squeezing his hand once again.

Enjolras looked up, blue eyes finding brown. “Truth be told, I really like you, ’Ponine,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks flush pink at finally admitting it aloud after years of silently pining for her. “Hell, I don’t think ‘like’ is a strong enough word. I just—I’ve never really felt this way before about anyone else, and it scares the shit out of me to even think about it. I don’t want to overwhelm you, Éponine—that’s the last thing I ever want to do—but you asked me what I want us to be, so I’ll tell you the truth—I want us to be together, as in best friends _and_ a couple. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and I’ll step aside if you don’t, but just know that I’m willing to wait and I’ll always be here for you, as whatever you want me to be.”

Éponine fell silent, rather stunned to finally hear it straight from the horse’s mouth after a month of hearing their friends constantly talking about it. She broke eye contact, looking down at their intertwined hands and trying to process his words. “Wow,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “That’s… a lot to process all at once.”

Enjolras squeezed her hand. “Take all the time you need. I won’t mind.”

Éponine cracked a smile at his words, thinking about how lucky she was to have him in her life. His mere presence was comforting and he made it plain that he respected her boundaries—he treated her far better than any of her exes ever did, and she wondered what she had ever done to have someone as wonderful as him playing an active role in her life. She just knew he was going to be an amazing dad—far better than her own dad ever was for her, Azelma, and Gavroche. That brought her back to thoughts of Peanut—she knew Enjolras would be a great dad, but would she be a good mother?

“’Jolras,” she said at last, intent on changing the subject, “do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

“Of course you will, ’Ponine,” Enjolras replied, not a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “I know you’ll be a great mother.”

“But what if history repeats itself?” Éponine pointed out, beginning to grow rather distressed at the thought of turning out like her own parents and completely scared shitless at the mere thought of her and Enjolras’ child growing up to feel hated and unwanted. “You know how they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. My own parents were awful and I never had a decent example set for me, so what if I turn out like my parents did? What if—what if Peanut grows up to hate me the way Zel, Gav, and I grew up to hate our own parents? They _sold_ our two youngest brothers to some strangers, I don’t even remember the fucking names of my own brothers because of that. I have no idea about the first thing about being a good parent, Enjolras; my parents never bothered to even try to set a good example for me and my siblings. I don’t know how to raise a kid.”

“Éponine.” Enjolras squeezed her hand, moving his head slightly in an attempt to catch her eye. When she finally did, he gave her an encouraging smile and said, “You know what your parents did wrong, and you know that you would never put our child through what you went through. You’re aware, and that already makes you a much better person than your parents will ever be. I promise that you won’t become like your parents, ’Ponine—you have so much love to give, and I just know that you’ll be an amazing mom. You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met.” He gave her hand another squeeze, blue eyes gazing into brown as he told her with confidence evident in his gentle tone of voice, “Don’t doubt yourself.”

Éponine managed a smile, her eyes flicking to their intertwined hands once again, and she pulled him closer to pull him into a hug, burying her face in his shoulder and hugging him tight. Rather caught off-guard, he hugged her back, and she smiled into his shoulder, feeling safe in his warm embrace and finding herself wishing that they could just stay like this forever before she pulled away. “Can you get me some breakfast?” she asked, smiling rather sheepishly at him. “I’m craving some bacon right now.”

Enjolras bit down on his lip to suppress a smile, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Anything you want.”

* * *

“Enjolras!” Éponine whined, sitting in front of her closet and trying to hold back tears as she held her favourite pair of jeans in one hand, looking at all her other clothes in despair as she tried to pick out clothes that still fit.

As if on cue, Enjolras came bursting into the room moments later, asking, “What is it?”

Éponine dramatically brandished the pair of jeans in her hand at him. “My favourite pair of jeans doesn’t fucking fit anymore,” she complained, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie and silently scolding herself for being such a baby about it. “My clothes don’t fit and it’s all your fucking fault!”

Enjolras tried hard not to roll his eyes in amusement, knowing how big of a deal this was to Éponine as he sat down on the carpeted floor beside her. “We’ll get you some new clothes on the way back from the appointment, ’Ponine,” he promised her, taking her hand in his. It had become a bit of a habit for him to instinctively take her hand whenever he sensed that she wasn’t feeling quite right, and she hadn’t failed to pick up on that fact as she readily took his hand. A warm feeling spread throughout her fingers at the feeling of his hand in hers, and she laid her head on his shoulder as she stared up at the mess that was her closet.

After a few moments, Enjolras murmured, “I should go get ready.”

“I’ll meet you in the living room,” Éponine called as he got up to leave the room, rather reluctant about letting go of his hand as she herself stood up to rummage through her closet for clothes that still fit. She had yet to start showing, but she suspected that she would soon as she threw clothes pell-mell back into the closet after tossing them all out in her search for something that still fit her.

About half an hour later, much to Éponine’s relief, she realised that the nausea and morning sickness had faded almost completely as she and Enjolras got off at their usual stop to go to the clinic for her appointment with Dr. Bourrienne, linking her arm with his as they walked down the slippery pavement. After a little under a day of being trodden on by pedestrians and run over by vehicles, the snow had transformed into dirty grey slush, and Éponine wrinkled her nose as she and Enjolras stepped through a puddle in the midst of a heap of slush as they crossed the street. Enjolras noticed how she held on tighter to his arm once the both of them were back on the pavement, and he asked quietly, “Are you nervous?”

“Very,” she mumbled in reply as they came to a stop in front of the clinic, feeling her heart pounding just as it had a month ago during that first appointment. Had that really only been a month ago? It felt like a million years had passed since then.

Once Éponine and Enjolras were inside and she had signed in, she took a seat in a corner with Enjolras, their hands clasped tight as her eyes wandered to a teenage girl sitting with someone who seemed about her age. Éponine’s heart gave a jolt when she realised that it was the same girl she had seen a month ago, except this time, the girl wasn’t with her mother, instead accompanied by someone who Éponine assumed was a friend, and she leaned over to whisper to Enjolras, “I saw that girl a month ago.”

Enjolras’ eyes followed her gaze and landed on the teenage girl swinging her legs in her seat, seeming rather jittery and nervous, and he could have sworn he saw a million emotions flash through her green eyes all at once. He tried not to dwell on the indescribably frightened look on the young girl’s face, telling himself to focus instead on Éponine and their Peanut.

Once Éponine’s name was called, they came face to face once again with Alison, whose amber eyes lit up upon seeing Éponine and her companion once again. “Hi, Éponine! It’s nice to see you again,” Alison told her brightly as she escorted her into the exam room, going to take a little cup out of a cupboard. “You’ll have to do another urine test.”

Éponine made a face in distaste. “Does that mean I’ll have to do another blood test too?” she asked, preparing herself for the worst.

Alison smiled ruefully, nodding. “I’m sorry, Éponine, but it’s necessary.”

“Okay, fine.” Éponine took the cup from Alison and left for the bathroom, remembering the procedures of that last appointment as she peed into the cup before washing her hands and leaving it in the same place she left her cup during her first appointment. She went back to the exam room, where she hopped up on the exam table and stuck out her arm, her free hand grabbing Enjolras’. “Please just get it over with.”

Alison went to work, taking out a syringe before she rubbed over the crook of Éponine’s elbow with rubbing alcohol, telling her kindly, “It’ll only take a moment, just like it did last time. I promise.”

Éponine squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed Enjolras’ hand as tight as she could once she felt the slight sting of the syringe, only allowing herself to catch a breath once Alison removed the needle. “There you go!” she said cheerfully, patching up Éponine’s arm. “Dr. Bourrienne will be here soon.”

Shortly after Alison exited the room, Dr. Bourrienne entered, smiling once she laid eyes on Éponine and Enjolras. “How have you been, Éponine?” she enquired as she took a seat, opening her laptop to pull up Éponine’s file.

Before Éponine could answer, Enjolras blurted out, “She fainted on New Year’s.”

Dr. Bourrienne’s brow furrowed as she typed that up, Éponine turning her head to give Enjolras a look. “’Jolras!”

“I’m sorry, ’Ponine, but Combeferre said we should notify the doctor if something like that happened,” Enjolras apologised profusely, turning rather red at how he had just blurted that out. He silently resolved to start asking Éponine beforehand if it was okay for him to reveal such things before doing so.

After examining Éponine’s file for a while, Dr. Bourrienne finally said, “I’m sure everything is fine, Éponine. The hormone progesterone just relaxes the walls of your blood vessels so that causes your blood pressure to drop. Do tell me if any more fainting occurs, okay?”

“Capiche,” Éponine quipped, swinging her legs as she held Enjolras’ hand.

“How have you been feeling?” Dr. Bourrienne asked, tearing her eyes away from her laptop to face Éponine and Enjolras.

“Well, I think the morning sickness is ending,” Éponine replied, happy to be reminded of the fact that she wasn’t constantly throwing up anymore. “I haven’t thrown up in four days now, it’s really nice.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Bourrienne chuckled at how enthusiastic Éponine seemed to be about the fading morning sickness. Enjolras stole a sideways glance at the young woman and smiled to himself at how happy she was, savouring the moment. “You’re about twelve weeks along now; you’ll be entering your second trimester soon, and you’ll be growing a lot during that time.”

Éponine’s face fell at the thought of not being able to fit into her favourite clothes anymore, and she turned her head to look up at Enjolras, pouting. “This is your fault,” she declared, shooting him an accusatory glare as he suppressed a laugh.

“Like you always say, it takes two to tango,” Enjolras rebutted, chuckling when Éponine gasped and placed a hand over her heart.

“Are you seriously using my own words against me?” she asked indignantly, letting out another outraged little gasp when Enjolras nodded, a smirk on his face. “Unbelievable.”

Dr. Bourrienne chuckled at their banter, allowing them some time to cool down before asking another question. “Any cravings?”

“Ketchup,” Éponine replied. Beside her, Enjolras made a face upon remembering how she had made a peanut butter, jelly, and ketchup sandwich just yesterday, recalling how horrified he had been upon finding her making it in the kitchen. “Lots and lots of ketchup. On anything. All of our friends and Enjolras here are pretty grossed out by it.”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Dr. Bourrienne reassured her, trying not to laugh at the look on Enjolras’ face. “You should notify me if you start craving things like dirt and chalk, though—usually, there’s a reason behind it.”

“People really do that?” Éponine asked, rather intrigued by the idea. She only hoped she wouldn’t be one of those people.

“Yes, they do,” Dr. Bourrienne confirmed, clicking her tongue. “Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins every day?”

Éponine nodded in reply. “Yep.”

“Any fatigue?” Dr. Bourrienne asked, chuckling again when Éponine dramatically nodded in response. “Bleeding?”

“Just some light spotting,” Éponine replied. “Should I be worried?”

“Oh, no, it’s perfectly normal in early pregnancy,” Dr. Bourrienne assured her. She turned back to her laptop and hummed to herself as she looked through Éponine’s file, clicking her tongue in satisfaction once she had run through it once more. “Your blood and urine tests seem perfectly normal to me, Éponine. Completely healthy.” She turned back to face Éponine and Enjolras, looking the both of them up and down as she asked, “Have you started to show yet?”

“No, not really,” Éponine responded, shaking her head. “My stomach feels a lot firmer now, though.”

“You’re just around twelve weeks,” Dr. Bourrienne told her once again, standing up. “When you start to show is different for everyone, so you don’t have to worry. I’d like to do another ultrasound today, if that’s okay with you.”

“All right.” Éponine compliantly lay down on the exam table, laying the sheet Dr. Bourrienne gave her across her lap. Enjolras went to the other side of the exam table to stand by her as she rolled her shirt up and unbuttoned her pants, hearing her complain to Dr. Bourrienne, “My pants barely fit anymore.”

“You’ll be growing a lot in your second trimester,” Dr. Bourrienne told her as she spread the gel over Éponine’s stomach. She groaned at the thought of not being able to tie her own fucking shoelaces anymore, gripping Enjolras’ hand tighter at the cold feeling of the gel being spread over her stomach as she gave all her attention to the screen, Enjolras doing the same. She let out a little gasp of delight upon seeing the grainy image appearing on-screen—Peanut was looking less like a blob and more like an actual baby.

“Wow,” Enjolras breathed, feeling tears begin to fill his eyes once again at the sight of his baby. God, Peanut looked like an actual _baby_ now—it was incredible. He gazed down at Éponine through glistening blue eyes and felt his lips curl into a smile at the look of wonder on her face.

“Peanut looks like an actual baby now,” Éponine murmured, laughing through her tears as Dr. Bourrienne pointed at a specific spot on the screen.

“That’s your baby moving,” she told Éponine and Enjolras, turning to look at them and smiling at the awed looks on their faces. “You can’t feel it yet, but you’ll be able to in a few weeks. Sometime after that, you’ll be able to feel it from the outside,” she added, looking at Enjolras as she said that. Enjolras let out a watery chuckle, reaching up to wipe away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket.

“When will I feel it?” Éponine questioned; she was scared shitless, completely nervous, and excited out of her mind all at once.

“It differs from person to person,” Dr. Bourrienne replied. “Most people feel it during the sixteenth week, but it takes longer for others.”

“Can we have some pictures printed out?” Enjolras requested, eyes still glued to the screen, watching his and Éponine’s baby move.

“Of course you can,” Dr. Bourrienne responded, smiling at their enthusiasm as she stood up and gave Éponine a few paper towels to wipe the gel off her stomach. Once Éponine had buttoned up her pants and sitting up once again, Dr. Bourrienne told her and Enjolras, “I’d like to see you again in about a month or so, maybe more. What do you think about February twelfth? Same time as today.”

“That sounds great,” Éponine replied, taking her phone out to put it on her calendar after nearly having forgotten her appointment that day until Enjolras reminded her of it sometime after breakfast. Enjolras followed her lead, putting the date on his calendar just to be safe, aware of his need to constantly double-check everything.

“We might be able to find out the sex of your baby then if they cooperate,” Dr. Bourrienne told them. “Would you like to?”

Éponine firmly shook her head, surprising Enjolras somewhat. “No,” she responded, absolutely certain. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Dr. Bourrienne chuckled. “Well, okay, then. It’ll remain a surprise.”

Éponine briefly let go of Enjolras’ hand to hop off the exam table and shake Dr. Bourrienne’s hand. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bourrienne,” Éponine told her, smiling at the doctor as she led them outside the exam room and to the door. Éponine and Enjolras took the time to pick up the ultrasound photos from the front desk before going back to Dr. Bourrienne to bid her goodbye.

“Call me if you have any questions or concerns, okay?” Dr. Bourrienne told Éponine, nodding at Enjolras.

“Okay,” Éponine replied, pulling on her coat and putting on her cap as Dr. Bourrienne left the waiting room to see her next patient. She placed the ultrasound photos in her purse before taking Enjolras’ hand as the two of them walked outside. Looking up to catch his eye, she asked, “Can we go to Macy’s now?”

Enjolras let out a laugh before he could stop himself, suppressing a grin at her request. “Well, I owe you some new clothes. It’s the least I can do for getting you pregnant.” She let out a shriek of laughter when he twirled her around right there in the middle of the pavement without warning, and she was still laughing by the time Enjolras had pulled her back towards his side. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Éponine was absolutely _not_ looking forward to going back to school and having to tell the principal and her students that she was pregnant, groaning as she rolled over in bed to shut off her alarm. It was the first day of school—back to waking up early, grading art projects, bantering with her students, and trying to ignore their occasionally bawdy comments about her love life, which they damn well knew was currently empty. She usually left for work earlier than Enjolras did—he was often still asleep by the time she left the apartment—so it came as a complete surprise to her when she dragged herself into the kitchen early in the morning to find him in there with two plates of bacon and eggs.

“I made you breakfast,” he told her, handing a plate of bacon and eggs to her and taking his own, sitting down at the counter and patting the empty counter stool beside him. Éponine gave him an inquisitive look as she took her seat, stuffing a strip of bacon into her mouth.

“What gives?” she questioned through a mouthful of bacon, turning her head to look at him.

“I just wanted to,” Enjolras replied casually, cutting up his eggs to spoon some into his mouth. “It’s your first day back at work, right? I thought it’d be insensitive if I slept through the morning.”

“How considerate of you,” Éponine remarked, giving him a playful grin as she stuffed another strip of bacon into her mouth. Enjolras bowed his head and smiled to himself, feeling his cheeks grow warm at her grin.

A quick glance out the window showed that it was still dark out, clouds hanging low in the sky, and Éponine wasn’t looking forward to the array of catcallers she was sure to encounter as she made her way to the subway station. She hated hearing the disgusting comments coming out of their mouths, and she would usually bite back, but that had gotten her hurt in the past and she had Peanut to worry about now, and she didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if anything happened to her baby. Turning to look at Enjolras, she asked him, “Can you come with me?”

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I just need someone to accompany me to the subway station,” Éponine told him, placing her fork and spoon back on the plate. “You know how many creeps are out there. Usually I’d fight back, but I’ve gotten hurt because of it and I have Peanut to worry about now. Will you come with me?”

“Whatever you want,” Enjolras replied, putting an arm around her and leaning in to kiss her forehead. Éponine caught herself smiling at the feeling of his lips on her forehead before immediately wondering why she was beginning to feel so odd inside at the simple gesture. She could have sworn that she felt the same butterflies she used to feel around Marius and Cosette back when her infatuation with them was at its strongest.

When Enjolras pulled away from her, he stood up to bring his plate over to the sink, rinsing it off before sticking it in the dishwasher. “I’m just going to go get ready first, okay?”

“Okay,” Éponine murmured as she watched Enjolras exit the room. Her eyes flicked to the refrigerator, where Enjolras had stuck up one of the photographs from the last ultrasound along with one of the photographs from the first, and Éponine couldn’t help but smile at how it seemed like such a dad thing to do. After staring at the pictures of Peanut for a few moments, Éponine got up to go back to her room.

About ten minutes later, she and Enjolras were walking down the streets in their thick winter coats, Éponine pointedly ignoring the catcallers shouting obscene things at her and cutting insults at Enjolras. It had snowed even more overnight, the powder-white snow marred by footprints and cigarette butts as Éponine and Enjolras made their way to the subway, Éponine breathing a sigh of relief once they made it onto the platform without anything particularly horrible happening. Turning to Enjolras, she thoughtlessly flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace and standing on tiptoe, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you, ’Jolras,” she mumbled as he hugged her back after a moment of hesitation, rather taken aback by the sudden hug. When she pulled back, he leaned in to tenderly kiss her forehead just as her train came by.

“Stay safe, okay?” he told her softly, pulling back to gaze into her dark eyes and feeling his heart skip a few beats at the smile she gave him. “Have fun.”

“You too,” Éponine replied, getting onto the train and finding herself a seat. She waved goodbye to Enjolras through the window as the train began to move again, watching as he soon fell out of view and all she could see was black. She turned around in her seat, sitting down and placing a hand on her abdomen as she thought about seeing all her students again and having to tell them that she was pregnant, groaning inwardly at the mere thought of the raunchy jokes that would inevitably ensue. She tried not to think about it too much, instead thinking about how she would break the news to Principal Javert first.

Once she had gotten off at her stop and reached the school, she saw how a few students were already milling about on the campus lawn, and she briskly walked past them and into the building, the only thing on her mind being the principal. She made her way towards the principal’s office, feeling as if her heart would explode from the anxiety as she asked the secretary for Principal Javert. Soon enough, she found herself knocking on the door of the principal’s office, trying to calm her breathing, telling herself everything will be fine.

When she heard a curt voice call out, “Come in,” Éponine carefully opened the door and stepped inside, taking a deep breath as Javert looked up from whatever it was he was currently working on.

“Oh, Éponine.” Javert gestured across at the chair before his desk, inviting her to sit down. “I didn’t expect to see you today. Is anything wrong? It’s only the first day of school.”

Éponine immediately felt at ease, reminding herself that she knew Principal Javert almost as well as she knew her friends—of course, that probably stemmed from the fact that he was dating Cosette’s dad—ugh, old people dating was so  _weird_ —and she had encountered him several times at the gatherings Marius and Cosette hosted before she started working at the school. _Just tell him, Éponine,_ she told herself, inhaling and exhaling to calm herself. _It’ll just be like ripping a Band-Aid off. A massive Band-Aid._

“I—I need to tell you something,” she started, desperately trying not to stumble too much on her words.

Javert raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I’m—” Éponine stopped, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths before she finally managed to blurt out, “I’m pregnant.”

Of all things, Javert had _not_ been expecting to hear that from Éponine, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at her confession. “Are you still fit to work?” he questioned, cocking his head.

“I’m due in July,” Éponine informed him. “I’ll probably be going on leave about a month before my due date, so sometime in June, maybe earlier if something happens.”

“We’ll get a substitute to stand in for you,” Javert assured her. Éponine felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders, letting out a relieved sigh and smiling to herself. At her silence, Javert raised his eyebrows even more and asked, “Is that all?”

“Yeah, it is,” Éponine affirmed, standing up. “I’ll go get ready for my first class. I’ll drop by if I get the chance.”

“Sure thing.” Just as Éponine was about to exit the office, Javert called her name.

“Éponine?”

Éponine turned around. “Yes?”

Javert’s lips twisted into the tiniest of smiles. “Congratulations.”

* * *

Éponine entered the art studio to find her junior students already milling about, chatting amongst themselves about their vacations, and she smiled to herself as she made her way over to her desk, thinking she had made it all the way to her desk unnoticed until she heard a student shout her name.

“Hey, Miss T!” Éponine looked up as Sebastian Dupont made his way over to her desk, flashing a braces-filled grin at her as he brushed his curly red hair out of his hazel eyes. Éponine rolled her eyes and laughed, gesturing for Sebastian to go on. “How was your break?”

“Eventful,” Éponine replied truthfully, wondering if her high school years had really been that long ago as she looked up at one of her most promising students. It felt like it was just yesterday that she was walking the halls of her own school, complaining to Grantaire about the cafeteria food and holding protests against the rampant sexism on campus, having experienced it from the assholes on the football team as a high schooler. Not only that, but they had treated her bisexuality as something to be objectified as well, which had made things even worse. She wondered in mild amusement about what the students nowadays were rebelling against—that was if they rebelled at all.

But that was besides the point. Her high school days were a thing of the past; her job was to actually teach high schoolers now, and when she first took the job, she had resolved to treat her students better than any of her high school teachers had ever treated her, and it seemed to be working so far, judging by how at ease her students seemed to be around her.

Sebastian leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows, asking slyly, “Did you get laid?”

Éponine’s olive skin turned a bright shade of red at her student’s question, and she replied under her breath, “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You really shouldn’t be asking your teacher such inappropriate questions, Sebastian.”

“You’re the youngest teacher we have,” Sebastian pointed out. “You’re, what, only six years older than us? You wear that badass leather jacket too, it’s bound to get you laid at some point.”

“Shoo!” Éponine playfully shooed him away, looking down at her outfit—she typically wore a leather jacket, a random band T-shirt, and paint-splattered jeans as her daily uniform, having stripped away her numerous layers once she was within the warmth of her classroom, and Javert conveniently turned a blind eye to her choices of clothing; he had told her that she was free to wear whatever she wanted as long as she managed to teach her students. Standing up to stand in the front of the class and waving her hands about to catch her students’ attention, Éponine called out when they finally settled down in their seats and quieted down, “Welcome back to school, kids! How was your break?”

“My sister took me to Colorado!” Sebastian called out, more than happy to volunteer information about his break.

“Nobody cares, Seb!” a girl shouted back from a corner of the room.

“Calm down, you two,” Éponine chided, finding the girl in the corner. “Maddy, do keep whatever issues you have with Sebastian out of the classroom, okay?”

“Okay, Miss T.” Maddy Beauregard slumped down in her seat, glaring at Sebastian from across the room. The boy merely stuck his tongue out in response, and Éponine couldn’t help but think about how they were almost certainly going to end up getting caught making out under the bleachers by the end of the semester. _Teenagers,_ she mused thoughtfully, her mind going to the thought of how she would have to deal with one of her own at one point. That reminded her—she still needed to break the news to her students.

“I have something to tell you guys,” Éponine started, beginning to pace back and forth in her attempt to calm her nerves.

“Did you get in a relationship?” a student called out. Éponine located the voice and found Matthew Bonnet sitting beside Maddy with a shit-eating grin on his face, and Éponine gave him a look.

“ _No_ ,” she replied in exasperation. “Why are you little shits so obsessed with my love life?”

“Well, you’re young and you’re hot,” a girl, Désirée Anderson, pointed out matter-of-factly. Several students nodded in agreement. “You’re only six years older than we are. We’re kind of surprised that you’re still single.”

“For the last time, my love life is none of your business,” Éponine told her students firmly, wondering when the hell they would stop asking about it. _Probably never,_ she thought, rolling her eyes. “I have something to tell you.”

“Well, then, tell us,” Sebastian egged on, leaning forward on his desk.

“I’m about to! Jesus Christ, you’re so impatient,” Éponine huffed, walking back and forth before coming to a stop, taking a deep breath. _You can do this, Éponine,_ she told herself firmly. _Just like a Band-Aid._ After taking a deep breath, she announced to her class, “I’m pregnant.”

For the first time since she started working at the school, her students fell silent, stunned at the revelation, merely staring at her in shock through wide eyes. Éponine bit her lip, hoping they wouldn’t freak out as she clenched and unclenched her fist to try to calm her nerves.

At long last, Sebastian spoke. “Whoa, Miss T, get some.”

The awkwardness faded away immediately at Sebastian’s remark and almost the whole class, Éponine included, burst out laughing; Éponine was too busy laughing her ass off at Sebastian’s words to properly scold him. Once she had composed herself, she noticed how there was a girl sitting in another corner who hadn’t joined in on the laughter, and her eyes widened upon realising that it was that same girl she kept seeing at the clinic. Éponine wondered how she had never noticed her before, making a mental note to approach her later.

“Well, yeah, I’m pregnant, so I’m hoping you guys will go easy on me for the next few months,” Éponine told them once their laughter had died down. “That’s not too much to ask for, right?”

“Of course not, Miss T,” Maddy replied before anyone else could.

“Good.” Éponine clapped her hands together as she tended to do before actually starting a class. “Now who’s up for some spray painting?”

At the end of the class, Éponine found that she didn’t have to approach the mystery girl in the corner, for she approached her at her desk first. Éponine looked up and got a really good look at the girl—she had dark curly hair cut short and brown skin a few shades darker than Éponine’s olive skin, with freckles sprinkled across her nose and large, bright green eyes. “Can I help you?” Éponine asked kindly, gesturing for the girl to pull up a chair and sit down.

“I just transferred here,” the girl replied in lieu of a greeting. Well, that would explain why Éponine’s never seen her before. “I’m Sonia, Sonia Abel.”

“I’ve seen you before,” Éponine told her, managing to connect all the dots and coming to the conclusion that this young, frightened-looking girl was knocked up and looking for some advice. “You’re the girl from the clinic.”

Sonia nodded in despair and burst into tears without warning, alarming Éponine as the girl buried her face in her hands and let out quiet sobs. “My mom made me transfer here after she found out I got pregnant,” she told Éponine in between sobs. “My dad hasn’t been talking to me ever since I decided I would keep the baby. I—I—” She started crying even harder, and Éponine handed the tissue box on her desk over to Sonia, having no idea how to handle this. “I just—” Sonia let out an odd little sob-laugh as she blew her nose, angry at herself for making such a scene in front of her teacher, her teacher who was only six years older than her and seriously fucking cool, if the class she had just led was any indication. “I’m so sorry, I just thought—you know, since you’re pregnant too—I just felt like I could talk to you, I realise it’s ridiculous now, you’re a teacher and I’m just a junior, the idiot high schooler who got herself knocked up, I really shouldn’t be here—” Sonia was just about to get up and leave, scolding herself for making such a scene before Éponine cut her off.

“Hey,” Éponine said soothingly, reaching out across her desk to pat the girl on the shoulder. “I’m not really fit to deal with this kind of thing, but you can always come talk to me and I’ll try my best to give you advice. I’m definitely not as qualified to give advice as the counsellor is, but I can always talk about any pregnancy-related things if you want to come to me with questions. My door’s always open.”

Sonia sniffled and wiped away her tears with a tissue, managing a watery smile. “Thanks, Miss T,” she murmured, getting up. “I’m sorry for being such a bother.”

“Nonsense,” Éponine scoffed, wondering what the hell her parents had done to make her feel like she was being bothersome by wanting someone to talk to. “Come by anytime you want outside of class. I don’t mind.”

Sonia simply nodded and picked up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder before she exited the room, giving Éponine one more glance before disappearing from view. Éponine sighed and leaned back in her seat, taking her phone out and simply ending up staring at her lockscreen—it was a picture of her and Enjolras standing in front of the Broadhurst Theatre after that time they went to see Anastasia together. She wondered why the hell her heart skipped a beat at the mere sight of him in a picture, the way her heart skipped a beat—no, the way her heart _used to_ skip a beat whenever she was reminded of Marius or Cosette. Or both.

She thought nothing of it, going back to her laptop and resuming her work as usual.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: i liked russell crowe's portrayal of javert (more or less), but he isn't my favourite, so i tend to picture norm lewis. not that it would make any difference, really; i don't go into an in-depth description of javert's appearance, so picture him as whichever javert you want! i just thought you lovely readers should know.


	9. Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: sexual content (in italics as always), mention of rape

* * *

Éponine was sitting in the living room eating out of a jar of pickles and watching _Roman Holiday_ when Enjolras came home from work at eight that evening, appearing rather exhausted as he threw off his coat to hang up by the door before going to sit beside Éponine on the couch in that fancy, tailored grey work suit of his, taking off his suit jacket. She tried hard not to stare at how hot he looked dressed in that suit as she turned her head, asking sympathetically, “Rough day at work?”

“I’m working on my first major case,” Enjolras replied, leaning back on the couch cushions and letting out a deep sigh.

“Well, that’s good!” Éponine scooted over to lay her head on his shoulder, tucking her legs underneath her as she put the jar of pickles down on the coffee table. “What is it?”

“I’m representing a girl,” Enjolras told her, leaning his head against hers and taking her hand in his. “She was raped by her own uncle.”

“Yikes, that sounds awful.” Éponine snuggled closer to him, reaching over with her hand to grab the wool blanket dangling off the edge of the couch and wrap herself up in it. Enjolras caught himself smiling at how close she was, lacing his fingers tighter through hers as she snuggled up to him. “It must be really draining.”

“It is,” Enjolras replied, letting out another long-winded sigh. “But enough about me. How was your day?”

“Well, this one student of mine, Sebastian, told me to ‘get some’ when I told my first-period class I was pregnant,” Éponine offered, laughing to herself at the memory of it. “Also, turns out that girl from the clinic transferred to my school and she’s in my junior art class. She approached me after class looking for some support. The poor thing’s pregnant and her parents seem to be treating her like shit.”

“Wow.” Enjolras couldn’t think of anything else to say, rather surprised at the coincidence. “Shouldn’t she go to the counsellor if she’s looking for someone to talk to?”

“Yeah, but she just looked so hopeless!” Éponine responded, remembering how Sonia had burst into tears right in front of her. “I told her she could always come to me to ask about pregnancy-related shit; I’m not really fit to give advice, but the least I can do is help her out by trying to answer any questions she might have about pregnancy.”

Éponine fell silent once again as she turned all her attention back to the movie, leaving Enjolras to just smile to himself at how much he loved her, remembering how he had first fallen for how selfless and caring she was. Even with everything she was going through, she still managed to make time for others to try and help them out; he remembered how she had been rather selfish back when he first met her in college, rude and defensive, which only made it all the more astounding at how many changes she had gone through to make herself a better person. He turned his head to press a kiss to the top of her head before he actually gave his attention to the movie, knowing that it was one of Éponine’s favourites and not noticing how she turned pink at his gesture.

“How did the principal react when you said you were pregnant?” Enjolras asked rather absently at some point, rubbing circles into the palm of her hand with his thumb.

“Javert took it better than I expected,” Éponine answered, a hint of cheerfulness in her tone. “Told me congratulations and everything. Are we going to be holding a baby shower?”

“Cosette’s probably planning one right now, honestly,” Enjolras responded, chuckling to himself at the idea of it. “Why?”

“Well, just be sure to put him on the guest list,” Éponine replied, lifting her head up and turning her head to gaze into his eyes, scrunching up her face at him. He smirked back at her, making her breath catch in her throat, rather flustered, and she noticed how their faces were mere _inches_ apart and she could just lean in and kiss him to close the gap between them before she forced herself to stop thinking about it, convincing herself that she was only feeling this way because she was a complete horn dog lately. Instead, she added, “Although he’ll probably show up anyway since Cosette’s dad will be invited too.”

“Anything you want,” Enjolras told her compliantly, kissing the top of her head once again. She wondered why the hell she was starting to blush so much around him, turning her attention back to the movie and hoping he wouldn’t notice how hard she was blushing.

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the movie together, their hands intertwined, her head laying on his shoulder. Éponine was rather drowsy by the time the movie ended, trying hard to stifle her yawns as her head fell onto Enjolras’ chest before she straightened up again, determined not to fall asleep on him. He chuckled softly at how adorably sleepy she seemed to be, asking quietly, “Are you tired?”

“Very,” she replied, sounding rather petulant as she stood up and stumbled slightly once she was on her feet. “Tuck me in bed?” she asked, exaggerating a baby voice that Enjolras immediately knew she was going to use on Peanut once they were born.

“Okay, fine,” Enjolras gave in, letting her latch on to him as they began to make their way to her bedroom, Éponine falling backwards into bed once they reached the edge of her bed and wrapping herself up in the blankets, making herself comfortable among her numerous pillows and the teddy bear she had received from Grantaire six years ago in high school. Enjolras sat down at the edge of the bed, tilting his head and gazing down at Éponine as she snuggled into the sheets.

“Have you been practising on that guitar of yours?” Éponine asked curiously.

“Actually, I learned to play a new song,” Enjolras replied, his blue eyes lighting up. “I know it’s one of your favourites. Wait here.” He got up to leave the room, presumably to go fetch his guitar, and Éponine wondered which one of her songs it was that he had learned to play on the guitar for her. He returned shortly with the guitar in his hand, sitting down at the edge of the bed and tuning it just a bit before he began to pluck out a familiar tune.

Éponine almost immediately recognised it as a dodie song, her heart skipping a beat when she realised Enjolras had actually remembered that it was one of her favourite songs and he had actually taken the time to learn it, just for her. She laid her head on one of the pillows, gazing up at him as he looked down at the guitar, playing the simple tune and lulling Éponine to sleep with its lullaby-like sound. By the time Enjolras was finished playing the song on the guitar, he turned to find that Éponine was fast asleep, all snuggled up in the blankets with what looked like a faint smile on her face, all curled up and clutching her teddy bear. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile to himself at the sight as he patted her arm, murmuring, “Good night, ’Ponine.”

He soon left the room, but not until after he turned around to steal another quick glance at her and smile to himself before shutting the door.

* * *

_“Enjolras…”_

_Éponine let out a shaky moan of his name as he began to trail kisses up her jaw, down her neck, and then down her naked body, igniting a fire within her and making her toes curl. She parted her legs even more and let out a squeal when she felt his fingers toying about with her damp folds, craving release as he teasingly inserted a single finger before immediately pulling it out, making her whimper with desperation as he pressed kisses to her stomach, teasing her ruthlessly and revelling in the sound of her needy whines and wanton moans. He nestled between her thighs, pressing kisses to the insides of her thighs and evoking long, drawn-out, shaky moans from Éponine as his lips moved closer to her centre._

_“’Jolras,_ please _,” Éponine all but begged, moaning loudly and nearly losing her mind at the feeling of his hot, shallow breaths against her sex. “I need you…”_

_Enjolras smirked to himself and stuck his tongue out, experimentally licking up her slit and eliciting a pleasured shriek from Éponine. “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” he chuckled against her folds, looking up to find her all red-faced and panting, her hands twisting into his golden curls as she tried to push him down towards her core, desperate for release._

_“Enjolras, please,” Éponine moaned breathlessly, almost begging, and Enjolras finally gave in, clamping his mouth over her clit and beginning to suck at it as his tongue made its way into her core, grinning at her breathless gasp and relishing how she writhed beneath him and grabbed at his hair while his tongue explored her centre, low growls and groans escaping his lips and making her lose her mind._

_“’Jolras, fuck—” Éponine arched her back and pushed Enjolras’ head further down, throwing her head back and letting out a loud, high-pitched moan as he began to lap more insistently at her, sucking hard on her clit and lapping at her like a man possessed. “Oh,_ God _, yes!”_

_Enjolras smirked and began to furiously lap at her, aroused by the sound of her breathless gasps and moans of his name and the curse words spilling from those pretty lips of hers as she writhed and wiggled beneath him, desperate for release, her grip on his golden curls growing even tighter as he lapped at her at a furious pace, sucking on her clit and letting out a deep, guttural moan at how she shrieked at the feeling of his tongue inside her, her hips bucking up involuntarily as he licked his way around her centre, moaning at the taste of her._

_“Enjolras!” Éponine threw her head back and screamed out his name, seeing stars dancing behind her eyes, momentarily blinded by the force of her orgasm as she came hard, shuddering as Enjolras slowly pulled back and pressed one last, loving kiss to her folds before he looked up to gaze at her as she came down from her high, a breathless, beautiful boneless mass, her eyes closed and her chest heaving with heavy breaths. Once she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Enjolras gazing up at her with the most affectionate look on his face, gazing at her with that familiar curl of his lips. Without thinking, she pulled him upwards and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning softly into his mouth as she tasted herself on his lips, her fingers tracing his abs. All she knew was that she never wanted this moment to end._

Éponine jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in bed with a gasp, her legs tangled in the sheets. There was a certain heat between her legs that was driving her absolutely mad and she couldn’t resist letting out a moan as her hand slowly drifted down into her panties, thoughts of a half-naked Enjolras racing through her mind. A quick glance out the window showed that she had slept in that Saturday, and she grabbed her phone to find that it was just half an hour past noon and Enjolras had left her a text.

**bestie/baby daddy: Combeferre’s invited me out for the day. I’ll see you back at home around four this afternoon.**

Éponine lay back in bed, laying her head on her pillow and letting out a sigh, finding that she was, once more, all alone again in the apartment. She was in desperate need of a cold shower, if her hardened nipples and the dampness between her legs were any indication.

Once she was under the freezing jets of water, water splashing against her skin and soaking into her hair, Éponine took the time to consider whatever the fuck it was she was feeling towards Enjolras right now as her hand drifted down between her legs, letting out a low, drawn-out moan when she touched her dampened folds, easing a finger inside her core and beginning to pleasure herself. It was only when she began to envision Enjolras working a long, calloused finger inside her that she stopped, feeling ashamed simply for imagining her best friend pleasuring her, guilt beginning to eat her up. She quickly pulled her finger out and rinsed it off before she leaned back against the glass, groaning loudly in frustration and wondering why she was beginning to feel so fucking weird about her best friend.

About three weeks had passed since Enjolras properly confessed his feelings to her, three weeks since that last appointment. She was fifteen weeks along now and visibly pregnant, although she was still able to conceal it under numerous layers that winter. Looking down at her small but noticeable bump, she caressed it tenderly, murmuring, “What’s happening to me, Peanut?”

Once she had gotten out of the shower, she pulled on her clothes and pulled out her phone to shoot Grantaire a text, since she usually went to talk to him about her problems. Even with his tendencies towards acting like an ass, he gave some great advice, which was why he had become one of Éponine’s closest confidants over the years. **you free?**

Within moments, Grantaire had replied. **yeah, im just chilling at home w/ toby.**

 **meet me in central park?** Éponine typed as she sat down at the edge of her bed. **bring toby if you want. i srsly need to talk about something.**

**r: where do u want us 2 meet?**

Éponine considered it for a moment, replying at last, **bethesda fountain. meet me there in half an hour.**

**r: roger that.**

Éponine smiled to herself and shook her head, getting up to get ready to leave for Central Park, making sure to text Enjolras about her whereabouts beforehand as the two of them usually did before either one of them left the apartment.

**me: i’ll be in central park with r for some time, don’t worry about me i’ll be fine**

Moments later, Éponine’s phone buzzed, and she picked it up to find another text from Enjolras.

**bestie/baby daddy: Have fun :)**

Éponine had to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape her throat at Enjolras’ usage of a smiley face as she opened the door to be greeted by a strong gust of frigid wind, stepping out into the streets and making her way to the subway station. She found herself smiling down at her phone, feeling impossibly delighted for no other reason than the fact that somehow she caused Enjolras to text her a smiley face before immediately wondering why the hell it made her so damn happy. She dismissed it as pregnancy hormones as she descended onto the subway platform, forcing herself to stop thinking about it as she waited for her train. Once she was crammed into a seat in the corner of the train car, she thought she saw a familiar-looking man holding on to one of the handles and her heart nearly skipped a beat before the man vanished from her line of sight just like that as people clambered in and out of the train once it had screeched to a stop. Éponine told herself to calm down; there was no reason to panic. He was probably just a man who happened to resemble someone she thought she once knew.

Half an hour later, she was sitting at the edge of Bethesda Fountain with Grantaire, munching on a hot dog bun with nothing but ketchup in it as Grantaire coddled Toby in his arms, speaking fondly to the tiny Yorkshire terrier and constantly readjusting the dog’s tiny winter coat and teensy boots. Jack Frost seemed to be nipping at their noses that day, if the icy air was any indication, and grey clouds were hanging low above the city as snow drifted down to the ground at a lazy pace, slowly gathering in little piles as people stepped through the snow, turning it into grey slush. Éponine pulled her cap on tighter, looking over at Grantaire and Toby and saying through a mouthful of hot dog and ketchup, “You spoil that dumb dog too much.”

“Don’t call him dumb,” Grantaire immediately went to Toby’s defence, stroking the little terrier’s fur, the dog barking back at Éponine as if he understood what she had said. “Toby’s my baby. I’ll spoil him all I want, thank you very much.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Besides, I’m just setting an example. It’s not like you and Enj won’t spoil your kid with love when they’re born.”

Éponine feigned a scowl at Grantaire, taking an obstinate bite out of her hot dog. “Touché.”

After a few moments of silence in which Éponine just munched on her ketchup hot dog, Grantaire asked, “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Éponine stuffed the last of her hot dog into her mouth and chewed on it for some time before swallowing it, letting out a sigh and watching the little cloud that was her breath fade away in the air. “It’s Enjolras,” she admitted at last, pressing a hand to her growing belly. Through her numerous layers, one wasn’t able to see her little baby bump, much to her relief. She’d rather not be attracting stares just yet. “I—I’ve been feeling really weird things about him lately.”

“Sexy things?” Grantaire quipped, giving Éponine a shit-eating grin as Toby barked, almost as if he was agreeing with his human companion.

Éponine lightly punched Grantaire in the shoulder, glaring at him. “As a matter of fact, yes,” she hissed, managing to keep her voice low. “That’s why I’m so damn confused. I’ve—” Éponine lowered her voice even more, wary of any strangers that could happen to be eavesdropping “—I’ve been having _sex dreams_ about him, R, I keep waking up and picturing him naked.”

“Haven’t you always done that?” Grantaire teased once again, earning himself another light punch from Éponine.

“No! Shut up, Raoul Grantaire, and just fucking listen to me,” Éponine told him in exasperation, wishing she could just get through this without him adding his own two cents. Truth be told, she usually liked his commentary, but this was fucking _serious_ , and she needed to talk to someone about it to work out her own confusing feelings.

Grantaire flinched at the usage of his first name, jutting out his bottom lip and bringing Toby closer to his face. “Auntie Éponine is being mean to Dada,” he whined to Toby in the most ridiculous baby voice Éponine had ever heard. She rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh as Toby barked at her as if to scold her for being mean to his dad.

“Okay, so ’Jolras finally confessed about three weeks ago,” Éponine began to explain, twiddling her thumbs to keep her hands occupied. “To be honest, it felt pretty weird to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth after a month of all of you guys constantly talking about how in love with me he is.” She couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he still loved her, even after all they had been through, and Grantaire didn’t fail to pick up on that fact, smirking to himself at the sight of the little smile that lit up Éponine’s face. “He told me he understands if I don’t feel the same way and he’ll step aside if it turns out I don’t, but he also said he’s willing to wait for me and that he’ll always be there for me as whatever I want him to be. His words exactly. Almost.” Éponine then fell silent, unable to find the right words to go on.

The silence was soon broken by the sound of Toby’s bark, and then Grantaire’s voice. “So what are you confused about?”

“I—” Éponine trailed off once again. _God_ , why can’t she just find the fucking words? “His words got me thinking,” she said at last, trying her best to put the chaotic, disorderly thoughts racing through her mind into words. “I’m—I’m just so confused, R! I’m confused about how I feel about Enjolras. It’s just—I mean, I’m having frequent dreams about him, sexy or otherwise, and maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones going crazy, but I just—” Éponine let out a frustrated sigh, completely at a loss for words but continuing to produce word vomit anyway, going on, “I’ve started feeling really weird whenever I’m around him, which is… most of the time, since we live together. My heart rate speeds up and it always feels like I’m struggling to breathe and I feel as if I have butterflies in my stomach, and I’m blushing a lot too, which is _weird_ because he’s my best friend! Why the fuck am I feeling like this? _What_ am I feeling, exactly? I’m just so confused, R, and my body keeps misbehaving on top of all that.”

“You like him,” Grantaire replied without a moment’s hesitation, not an ounce of uncertainty in his tone. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”

“No, I don’t!” Éponine loudly denied, causing a few birds to explode out of a nearby tree and startling Toby, who let out an annoyed little bark. Composing herself, Éponine said quietly, “I don’t like him like that, R. You know that.”

“Everything you just said suggests otherwise,” Grantaire pointed out. “Everything you just listed out? Seems like the symptoms of falling in love to me. Racing heart, butterflies in your stomach, feeling breathless? Sounds like someone’s got it bad.” Éponine had just opened her mouth to protest before Grantaire pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her. “Just think about it, Ep. You might be surprised.”

Éponine fell silent once again, beginning to ponder Enjolras’ words from three weeks ago, rather surprised by how unsurprised she was at the fact that his exact words were etched into her mind. _I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and I’ll step aside if you don’t, but just know that I’m willing to wait and I’ll always be here for you, as whatever you want me to be,_ she could practically hear him say in the back of her mind, picturing the earnest look he had had on his face as he said that. Her heart ached at the thought of someone deeming her worthy enough to wait for, and she began to think back to those odd, volatile feelings she had felt over the course of the last three weeks.

She recalled little gestures Enjolras liked to do—taking her hand whenever she seemed anxious about something, pulling her closer to him whenever the two of them were watching a movie or TV show together on the couch and allowing her to snuggle up to him, making her breakfast whenever she seemed too exhausted to do so, hell, even tucking her into bed and serenading her to sleep whenever she requested that he do so. She slowly began to recall all those times she felt like she had craved his company, even if it was just the two of them sitting silently together as they watched a movie, remembering all the times she had felt her heart beat faster whenever he spoke about Peanut, remembering how she felt safe in his embrace, never wanting to let go, remembering how she always felt that odd warmth spread throughout her fingers first before catching up to the rest of her body whenever she held his hand, realising how he was the only one capable of making her feel that way.

She realised how Marius and Cosette hadn’t been on her mind in weeks now, her mind usually being occupied by thoughts of Peanut and Enjolras instead, and she felt as if her heart had skipped a beat when she came to the realisation that she didn’t feel the butterflies anymore whenever Marius and Cosette crossed her mind. Instead, she was feeling those very butterflies whenever she thought of Enjolras now, and she felt as if she had just come to the end of a long journey after truly allowing herself to process and understand some of her deepest feelings, the feelings she had pushed away and nearly forgotten about. Was this really how she felt deep down?

Both Grantaire and Toby were staring at Éponine intently as she sat in silence, trying to process what she truly felt, and Grantaire could practically see the range of emotions flash across Éponine’s face as she went through several different stages of realisation before her brown eyes widened, alerting Grantaire that she had finally completely processed all of her repressed feelings and emotions. Six whole minutes had passed by the time Éponine spoke again.

“Oh, shit.” Her voice was soft, barely audible as she slowly exhaled, unable to believe what her mind was telling her. “I’m in love with Enjolras.”

“Yeah, you are,” Grantaire replied, his lips quirking into a smirk once again. “I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to realise that you are.”

Éponine scrunched up her face and stuck out her bottom lip rather petulantly, asking, “What the hell do I do, R? Do I just go home and see ’Jolras and go like ‘Hey, so I just realised today that I’m in love with you, okay that’s it bye’?”

“Of course not, don’t be an idiot.” Grantaire paused to coo some more at Toby, stroking his fur lovingly and saying in that same ridiculous baby voice, “Who’s a good boy?” as Toby barked back. Éponine couldn’t resist rolling her eyes before Grantaire turned his attention back to her. “He said he’ll always be there for you as whatever you want him to be, right?”

“Yeah,” Éponine confirmed, nodding. “Why?”

“Are you dense?” Grantaire lightly pummelled Éponine’s shoulder, a grin spreading across his face as his green eyes lit up. “Éponine, he’s practically inviting you to ask him to be your boyfriend! He said he’s willing to settle for being just friends, and knowing him, he probably actually means it, but I know that he wouldn’t hesitate for a second if you asked him about a relationship, an actual relationship, so why don’t you give it a shot?”

Éponine went silent once again at Grantaire’s words, processing the idea of it all. At long last, she stood up, throwing her arms around Grantaire as Toby barked in protest between them. “Grantaire, I swear, you’re the best,” she told him enthusiastically, pressing a kiss to his cheek and allowing Toby to lick her ear. “Is it okay if I go now?”

“Go get your knight in shining armour,” Grantaire told her, grinning as she embraced him once again before detaching herself from him and beginning to walk away, filled with a new purpose.

* * *

When Éponine reached the apartment, snow had begun to fall again, and it was just around four o’clock, which was when Enjolras said he would be back home. Sure enough, when she reached their apartment, she saw how the lights were on, glimpsing movement through the curtains. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the icy steps and opened the door, calling out, “Enjolras?”

“’Ponine?” Enjolras soon came into view as Éponine took off her coat and a few of the sweatshirts she had had on, and Enjolras could see the faint outline of a tiny baby bump through her somewhat tight-fitting sweater as she approached him. Éponine looked down at her feet, thinking that it was quite ridiculous how much she was smiling in his presence after realising that she loved him.

“Hey,” she greeted, looking up and tilting her head slightly as she swung her arms out of nerves, brown eyes meeting blue. She found herself letting out a rather crazy-sounding laugh, trying to calm herself down as she bit down on her lip and mustered a smile.

Enjolras cocked his head at her awkward behaviour, asking in concern, “Are you okay?”

 _Just like a Band-Aid, Éponine,_ she reminded herself, repeating the words she had silently said to herself three weeks ago in her head. “Hey, so you know how you said you’ll always be here for me, as whatever I want you to be, like, for me?” she started, rather impressed at her own ability to not stumble over her words as she said it.

“Of course, ’Ponine,” Enjolras replied, not having the slightest idea what she was getting at. “I always will. Why?”

“Well, say, hypothetically, I were to kiss you right now,” Éponine explained, feeling her cheeks grow warm at her own words. “Would you be okay with that? I mean, hypothetically? How would you react? Hypothetically?”

“Oh, well, I—” Enjolras found that he was rather tongue-tied all of a sudden, his cheeks flaming at the mere idea of it. “I—I’d probably kiss you back. Hypothetically, I mean. Truth be told, I’d probably be ecstatic. Hypothetically, of course.” Trying not to let himself get too worked up at the idea of it, he asked, “Why?”

“Well…” Feeling her mouth grow dry, Éponine found that she was unable to find the proper words, letting out a little huff of annoyance at her own speechlessness before she decided to not care for once, declaring, “You know what? Fuck it.” She hopped up on her toes, taking his face into her hands and forcefully pressing her lips to his, and Enjolras immediately felt as if his insides were melting.

It took a few moments for him to register the fact that Éponine was kissing him, actually _kissing_ him, properly kissing him for the first time in _months_ since the night Peanut was conceived, and once his body finally caught up to him after he stood there like a dumbass for several breathless moments, his blue eyes wide with shock, he threw his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, closing his eyes and kissing her back equally enthusiastically as her hands dropped from his face so her arms could snake up around his neck as she sighed contentedly into the kiss, and then he was grinning like a fucking moron against her lips as he kissed her with more passion than he even knew he possessed, feeling one of her hands moving up into his hair. After several moments, Éponine pulled away from him, almost completely breathless as she gazed up into his blue eyes, running her fingers through his golden curls.

“So I may have kind of sort of maybe realised that I have feelings for you,” Éponine whispered, biting her lip to stifle a laugh as Enjolras bowed his head to conceal his massive grin, his forehead brushing hers before he looked up again and pulled her back into another kiss, unable to keep himself from grinning widely into the kiss as she giggled against his lips, swept away by how enthusiastic he appeared to be. Once they broke apart once again, Éponine brought her hand up to trace Enjolras’ jawline as she asked softly, repeating his words from three weeks ago, “So what are we?”

“What do you want us to be?” Enjolras replied, unable to keep the dorky smile off his face as he recalled how Éponine had said those very words three weeks ago.

Éponine’s arms were loosely dangling around Enjolras’ neck as she looked down at their feet, rather flustered, her cheeks flushed pink as she said softly, “Well, we’re best friends and roommates already, and we’re going to be parents together. What do you say to throwing an actual relationship into the mix?”

Enjolras leaned in for another kiss, unable to restrain himself from grinning when he felt Éponine’s lips curve into a smile against his. “Let’s try it.”


	10. Chapter X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: mild smut if you squint

* * *

Éponine and Enjolras weren’t the kind of people to be very affectionate in public, almost never going beyond holding hands and the occasional kiss on the cheek here and there, and on extremely rare occasions, kisses on the lips. Honestly, it wasn’t that different from when they were strictly best friends—the only difference was that she slept in his bed with him more often nowadays, finding that she had been desperate for a cuddle buddy, so who better to provide cuddles than her boyfriend? They didn’t feel the need to flaunt their relationship to the world, choosing instead to keep the most intimate aspects of their relationship private, so it was no wonder that it took Les Amis some time to catch on.

About two weeks after they made things official, they met with their friends in that corner café they liked to frequent ever since discovering it back in their college days one afternoon, just to hang out and keep Gavroche, who worked there part time as a barista, some company. After loudly protesting her inability to have caffeine for several minutes, arguing back and forth with Enjolras, Éponine had finally settled on hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant. The two of them had been the first of their friends to arrive, if one didn’t count Gavroche, who already worked there on weekday afternoons anyway, so they found a quiet corner for themselves to relax together and chat as they waited for their friends to arrive. It was a slow day at the café—Gavroche had been pacing around behind the counter for ten minutes now, occasionally striking conversation with his fellow coworkers, and the only other people in the entire café besides Éponine, Enjolras, Gavroche, and his two coworkers were an elderly couple in another corner, one of them reading out loud to the other.

“You have your next appointment tomorrow,” Enjolras reminded Éponine as she leaned into him on the loveseat they were sitting on, allowing him to put his arm around her as she took a bite out of her croissant. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Éponine lifted her head, staring at him rather incredulously. “Of course I do,” she replied as if it was obvious. “You’re the baby daddy, of course I want you to come unless you have something important going on.” Éponine narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her face at him in that endearing manner, having a habit of doing that whenever she was pretending to see through him. “Do you? I’ll just take someone else if you do, I don’t mind.”

“I have nothing going on that day, it’s fine.” Enjolras tucked Éponine’s hair behind her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and grinning at how she smiled, lightly pressing a kiss to the dimple in her cheek before she turned her head to gaze fondly into his blue eyes. She leaned in to close the gap between them, kissing him tenderly, unaware of how the little bell at the door had jingled, signalling another person’s entrance, and the two of them broke apart when they heard the sound of an all too familiar screech.

“What the _fuck_?!” Éponine and Enjolras looked up to find Courfeyrac standing before them with a look of utter shock in his dark eyes, mouth gaping open like a goldfish as he kept looking back and forth between the couple, trying to process what he had just witnessed. “Are you two _together_?”

Éponine grinned up at Courfeyrac, her eyes sparkling. “What’s it to you?”

“Holy shit, I _need_ to tell everyone.” Courfeyrac had just whipped out his phone to text everyone else when Éponine reached up and snatched it away from him, evoking a squawk of protest from the man. “Hey! What the fuck?”

“You don’t need to tell everyone, because everyone is already here,” Éponine told him, gesturing behind Courfeyrac at the telltale sound of the bell, placing his phone on the coffee table before them. Courfeyrac whirled around in place to find everyone else entering and finding seats near Éponine and Enjolras, making themselves comfortable and not noticing at first how Enjolras had an arm around Éponine and the two of them were sitting much closer together than necessary on the loveseat. It wasn’t until Courfeyrac screeched again that they finally turned their attention to the couple in the corner.

“Are you fuckwads blind?! Look at them!” Courfeyrac wildly flailed his arms, gesturing towards Éponine and Enjolras and attracting the attention of Gavroche, his coworkers, and the other two patrons in the café besides Les Amis. “What kind of lovey-dovey romantic bullshit is this?!”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Azelma asked, seizing the opportunity to be snippy.

Courfeyrac promptly ignored her, instead gesticulating frantically at Éponine and Enjolras even more and waiting for everyone else to take the hint. When they merely looked between him and the couple with mostly blank looks on their faces, Courfeyrac _exploded_.

“These two fucks are in a _relationship_ and they didn’t even tell us!” he screeched out, attracting scandalised looks from the elderly couple in the corner.

“Dearie me,” the Amis heard one of them say, and Éponine stifled a laugh at the sight of the one who had spoken pressing a hand to their heart.

After a moment of silence in which everyone simply stared at Éponine and Enjolras, Grantaire spoke.

“Fuck yeah! Get some!” Sitting in an armchair right next to the loveseat, he held up his hand for a high five, a pleased grin on his face. Éponine grinned back and high fived him as Cosette let out a squeal.

“You two can be in the wedding together!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement and bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Courf, you owe me twenty bucks,” Musichetta called out from between Joly and Bossuet, a smug grin on her face as Courfeyrac begrudgingly pulled out his wallet to take out two ten-dollar bills, which he handed over to Musichetta with a scowl on his face.

“You guys bet on us?” Enjolras questioned incredulously, watching the exchange with a furrowed brow as Éponine reached up to squeeze his hand.

“To be fair, you two took a pretty long time to get together,” Combeferre reasoned, smiling at the two of them from across their loveseat. “I’m so happy for you two! We thought it’d never happen.”

“We were kind of getting sick of the ‘will they, won’t they’ and all the eye sex,” Bahorel admitted, staring straight at Enjolras from his seat beside Feuilly by the window. “But Enj, if you hurt her, I won’t hesitate.”

Enjolras nodded, biting his lip. “Noted.”

Just then, Gavroche leaned over the edge of the counter to call out, “Do you morons actually want to order anything or are you just here to take advantage of our WiFi?”

“Christ, okay!” Azelma got up, shooting a glare in Courfeyrac’s direction, to go over to the counter and order a cappuccino and a cinnamon roll. Courfeyrac stared after her, and Éponine could have sworn that he had a wistful look in his dark eyes as he gazed after the redhead.

Éponine thought nothing of it, simply smiling to herself when she felt Enjolras’ arm sliding down to go around her waist, his hand resting on her tiny bump, and she felt her cheeks burn red when he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?” he whispered into her ear, not noticing how Grantaire feigned an exaggerated gagging motion beside them before getting up to order something. Feeling the tiny bump through that hoodie of his that Éponine was wearing, Enjolras felt his heart skip a few beats, still unable to believe that Éponine had a little human that was half her and half him growing inside her.

“You two are too cute together,” Cosette gushed, barely restraining herself from squealing at the sight of them after waiting for months with the others for the two of them to realise their feelings and get together. “Eppy, are you showing yet?”

Éponine blushed even more, replying, “A little bit. You can’t see it through my hoodie though, thank fuck.” She had gone up a cup size in the past couple of weeks in addition to the baby bump, much to her mortification, and she needed to write down a reminder for herself to go out and buy a few new bras after having broken her favourite bra a couple of days ago. Now, though, she just focused on being in the moment with her best friend and their other friends, anticipating their next appointment with Dr. Bourrienne, which was to be the first appointment they were going to together as an official couple.

Grantaire soon returned with an espresso in hand and a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies, plopping down in the armchair beside Éponine and Enjolras’ loveseat and leaning over to ask, “So does this mean you two are boning again?”

Éponine felt her cheeks turn pink and turned her head, seeing how Enjolras had gone scarlet at Grantaire’s words. She turned back to flick Grantaire’s forehead, pretending to glower at him. “That,” she said, reaching over to grab a cookie off his plate before he could open his mouth in protest, “is none of your business.” Making sure Enjolras wasn’t listening in, Éponine leaned over to Grantaire and whispered, “Yeah, we are, but shut up about it, fuckface. It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

Grantaire’s lips soon curled into a knowing smirk as he settled back in his armchair, eyeing the couple and sniggering every now and then as he sipped his espresso and experimentally dipped a cookie in it to see what it would taste like as they chatted amongst themselves, updating each other on their individual personal lives and, in Éponine and Enjolras’ case, being questioned endlessly about the baby. “Have you two started thinking about names yet?” Feuilly asked at one point, leaning forward in interest.

Éponine frowned at his question, having never considered names before. “No, not yet,” she replied as Enjolras squeezed her bicep, his arm still around her shoulders. “I’m only seventeen weeks along, for fuck’s sake, the two of us are still trying to figure out where the baby’s room is going to be.”

“When’s the baby shower?” Joly enquired, beaming at the both of them.

Éponine looked like a deer caught in headlights at the question. “Ask Cosette,” she responded after a few moments of hesitation, gesturing towards the blonde. “She’s in charge of planning it.”

“It’ll be amazing, I promise you,” Cosette promised Éponine, bouncing up and down in her seat. “Are you two finding out the gender of the baby soon?”

“No, we decided to keep it a surprise,” Enjolras replied, resisting the urge to kiss Éponine’s cheek, what with everyone watching. He was iffy about displaying affection in front of all their friends, preferring to keep it at keeping his arm around her and holding hands now and then. His reservations when it came to PDA only further contributed to his title as the marble man, but the nickname had kind of grown on him by now, so he didn’t really mind.

“Good for you,” Courfeyrac told them approvingly, chugging whatever remained of his drink.

“Double the fun with names, then!” Bossuet cheered, putting his arms around Joly and Musichetta. Éponine couldn’t help but smile at how enthusiastic they all seemed about the baby—once they were born, Peanut would definitely have some pretty kick-ass uncles and aunts, that was for sure.

Éponine turned her head to whisper something in Enjolras’ ear and the two of them soon got up, Enjolras dropping his arm from around her to take her hand in his. “It’s getting dark out,” Éponine explained when Grantaire gave her a quizzical look. “We should get back home. We have another appointment tomorrow anyway.”

“Have fun!” Courfeyrac called after them, seeming to imply something from the way he said it and the smirk he had on his face. Éponine promptly ignored him and exited the café with Enjolras once they had put their coats on, their hands tightly intertwined.

Éponine looked up to look him in the eye, a questioning look on her face. “Home?”

Enjolras turned to see if the Amis were looking at them through the window, and sure enough, they were. For once, he decided to not care about what they were going to think and leaned in to kiss Éponine’s forehead, evoking a tiny squeak of surprise from her. Once he pulled back to gaze tenderly into her eyes, he agreed, “Home.”

Éponine smiled up at him and grabbed onto his arm as they began to walk back in the direction of the subway station. Just before they descended down onto the subway platform, she thought she saw a rather familiar-looking man standing in front of a bookshop and her heart nearly stopped before he disappeared just like that, but she simply dismissed it as her mind playing tricks on her, convincing herself that it couldn’t possibly be _him_ again.

Once they reached their apartment, Éponine immediately stripped down to her hoodie and leggings and tied up her hair in a messy bun, darting to the kitchen to grab the jar of pickles out of the fridge as Enjolras closely followed, unable to keep himself from smiling at how damn cute his girlfriend was. Once she was happily munching on pickles, a spoon in her hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist to kiss her neck from behind, feeling her little baby bump through her hoodie and gently caressing it, feeling as if his heart was about to burst at how completely, utterly happy he was. Smiling against the soft skin of her neck, he nuzzled into her, breathing in her scent and listening to how she giggled.

“’Jolras, that tickles,” she whispered, turning around to look up at him with a little smile on her face, still holding the jar of pickles in her hand.

Enjolras shrugged, smiling back at her. He just couldn’t help it—she looked stunning that night, drowning in one of his hoodies and wearing fuzzy socks, her hair up in a bun. “You just look so beautiful tonight,” he told her softly, smiling at how her olive skin turned a deep shade of red at his words.

“Shut up,” she replied, playfully shoving him before placing the pickle jar back on the counter. “You’re making me blush.”

He bit his lip to keep himself from smiling even more at her blush, leaning in for a gentle kiss and feeling how her arms snaked up to hang around his neck as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him and sighing at how her hands went up into his hair, her fingers tangling in his golden curls, parting her lips and deepening the kiss. She let out a soft, breathy moan upon feeling his tongue sliding into her mouth and she kissed him even more still, jumping up to hook her legs around his waist and feeling herself grow wet once again as he growled from deep in the back of his throat, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth.

In that moment, all she craved was him.

“Enjolras,” Éponine whispered breathlessly, breaking the kiss to gaze into his eyes, “I’m really horny right now and I kind of need you to fuck me as hard as you can. Like, right now.”

Enjolras laughed and set her down on the counter, experimentally sliding one large hand down the front of her leggings and toying with the waistband of her panties, immediately followed by a breathy gasp of surprise from her. “’Jolras, I’m serious,” she scolded him, about to say more until she was cut off by his lips meeting hers as his hand found its way past the waistband of her panties, eliciting an involuntary moan, and she immediately pulled him closer, sighing as she felt him kiss her slowly, passionately, feeling around her dampened folds teasingly and making her moan against his lips. She was losing herself in the moment, unable to think of anything other than him and his fingers ruthlessly teasing her as she lost the ability to form a single coherent sentence because what his fingers were doing right now felt _amazing_ , his mouth soon detaching from hers to press soft kisses to her neck.

Éponine wound her fingers tightly into Enjolras’ curls as he pressed tender kisses to the sensitive skin of her neck, her breathless moans breaking the silence as an ache settled between her legs right where he was rubbing his thumb against. She murmured his name like a prayer, desperately wishing he would quit teasing her and letting out a tiny gasp when she felt two fingers slip into her core, beginning to slide up and down and every which way, pleasuring her most sensitive spots and sending a warm fire coursing through her body. She tugged slightly at his hair as he began to kiss her neck more insistently, her moans slowly, slowly growing louder by the moment as he worked two fingers between her thighs.

It was a _heavenly_ feeling.

Éponine was writhing and squirming and just on the brink of orgasm when Enjolras stopped, pulling his fingers out of her and bringing them up to his lips, licking away her juices. Éponine glared at him at the loss of warmth, asking, “What the hell?”

Enjolras pulled her back into his arms once she slid off the counter and she readily jumped up on him once again, and he leaned in for a quick kiss before drawing back, a little smile on his face as he whispered, “Let’s take this to my room.”

* * *

Enjolras drifted in and out of a dream in which he saw a pair of warm, mischievous brown eyes as he lay on his bed with Éponine in his arms the next morning, somewhere between a state of slumber and consciousness as he absently ran his fingers up Éponine’s naked thigh, sunlight streaming in through the bay window, his face buried in her neck and sweat clinging to the both of them. He let out a contented sigh, wishing they could stay here in bed forever as he wrapped his arms tighter around the small, somewhat sweaty body in front of him, feeling the little bump on her stomach and smiling giddily at the fact that that was his baby in there.

“Enjolras,” he heard Éponine groggily say, feeling her shift in his arms so she would be facing him, leaning into his chest with a soft, contented sigh. He didn’t respond, keeping his blue eyes shut, trying hard not to smile at the sleepy sound of her voice.

He felt small, gentle hands cradling his face, tenderly caressing his cheek and tracing his jaw, and he almost leaned into her touch, unable to get enough of her.

Éponine chuckled softly, her gentle laughter full of affection. “I know you’re awake, ’Jolras.”

He felt a pair of soft lips gently brushing his and his blue eyes slowly blinked open as a little smile spread across his face. The first thing he saw was Éponine’s warm, sleepy half-lidded brown-eyed gaze, and his heart nearly imploded at how breathtaking she looked—a slight, almost unnoticeable blush on her cheeks, plump lips, and her dark hair in disarray. He dimly remembered first waking up with her like this, the both of them naked in a mess of tangled limbs, the morning after his birthday, and he smiled to think about how far they had come since then.

“Good morning,” Enjolras whispered as Éponine let out a little yawn. He reached to take her hand in his, bringing her small hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles and smiling at how she blushed at the gesture.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Éponine asked shyly, trying not to smile too much at the way he was looking at her.

Enjolras shrugged and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I never expected that my wildest dreams would ever become a reality,” he admitted softly, his free hand drifting down to feel her bump. “I never expected I’d ever get the chance to wake up with you in my arms again after the morning after my birthday, after… you know.”

Éponine smiled and bowed her head, looking at how his hand was tenderly resting against her little baby bump, gently caressing it and smiling down lovingly at it. Just then, she let out a soft gasp upon feeling an odd sort of fluttering in her stomach—the flutters felt similar to yet infinitely different from the butterflies she got whenever she was around Enjolras, feeling as if it was more physical somehow, more real, and her hand flew to her stomach, feeling around for the source of the fluttering.

“What is it?” Enjolras asked, his brow furrowing in concern as his gaze trailed down to her bare stomach.

“I think Peanut just kicked,” Éponine whispered, her lips forming a little smile at the realisation as she felt those same little flutters in her stomach once again, and she leaned in to press her lips to Enjolras’, kissing him tenderly in bed right there. She brought his hand to rest on her stomach, pulling away to ask him in a whisper, “Can you feel it?”

Enjolras felt around her abdomen before a look of disappointment crossed his face, prompting Éponine to reach up and caress his cheek tenderly. “No. I guess it’s too early,” he murmured, his eyes falling to her little bump as he gently rubbed it, still unable to completely process the fact that that was his baby in there.

Enjolras leaned in until their foreheads brushed, asking quietly, “Why don’t you just move into my room permanently?”

Éponine let out a little laugh, caught off-guard. “What?”

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed with me every night since we got together,” he reasoned, taking her hand in his once again and squeezing it. “Why don’t you just move all your things into my room? It’s bigger, and there’s really no need for a second bedroom now, is there? We can turn your room into a nursery for Peanut.”

Éponine considered it for a moment before replying, “You know what? Let’s do it. I’ll just sell my bed or give it to Azelma or something.”

Enjolras grinned at her answer and was just about to lean in for another kiss before Éponine stopped him, telling him firmly, “Go brush your teeth first. I’m not kissing you again until you do. Your breath fucking stinks.”

“Well, you go take a shower then,” Enjolras retorted, sitting up as Éponine rolled over to the edge of the bed and slid off the mattress, stark naked as she grabbed her towel off the armchair in a corner of the bedroom and wrapped it around herself, marching out into the hallway and to the bathroom. Enjolras had no choice but to follow her to the bathroom, finding that she was already in the shower and had just gotten the water running by the time he entered.

“You have your appointment today, remember?” Enjolras called over the noise from the running water, placing his toothbrush under the faucet before sticking it into his mouth, beginning to brush his teeth.

“I know, ’Jolras, I actually remembered for once,” Éponine called back, the glass starting to steam up from the heat of the shower, distorting her figure. Enjolras smiled to himself at her dismissive tone of voice and continued to brush his teeth, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing out his mouth once he had finished doing so.

Soon enough, he had shut off the water and turned around to find Éponine wrapped up in a towel, droplets of water dripping to the floor from her soaked hair, forming a little puddle. “That was quick,” he remarked, laughing when Éponine stuck her tongue out in response. “Do you want to go somewhere today before the appointment?” he asked as he grabbed his towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist. “We’ve never really gone on an actual date before. What do you say to lunch at Olive Garden?”

“Why not?” Éponine marched out the bathroom door and down the hall to her former bedroom, soon to become a nursery for Peanut, where most of her clothes still were, to grab something out of her closet to put on. “I’ve really been craving Italian lately.”

“Olive Garden it is.” Enjolras disappeared into their bedroom and soon came out fully clothed, his Hufflepuff scarf and grey beanie on, and made his way over to the living room to wait for Éponine, taking out his phone to scroll through the group chat the Amis shared—they seemed to have conveniently forgotten about the fact that Éponine and Enjolras were part of the group chat too, if the way they were all rambling in all caps about their relationship was any indication. He bit his lip and shook his head, shooting them a quick text to remind them that he and Éponine could see their entire conversation just as she came out of her old room resembling a marshmallow with all the layers she had on.

Éponine gave him a smile, scrunching up her entire face as she did so, asking, “Ready to go, babe?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at the stupid pet name and got up, offering her his arm to take and feeling his cheeks burn red when she stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek just as he opened the door, letting in a blast of icy air. Éponine shivered and moved closer to him, taking advantage of his warmth as much as she could as they made their way to the subway.

“Jesus, Times Square is crowded,” Éponine muttered as she latched onto Enjolras, the both of them navigating the crowds of Times Square on their way to Olive Garden and trying not to get lost in the throngs of people rushing about. By the time the two of them were in the warmth of the restaurant, a kindly waitress came by and seated them in a nice little corner overlooking Times Square, handing them menus before leaving them to their own devices.

Éponine hung her coat on the backrest of her chair across from Enjolras, letting out a long, contented sigh as she soaked up the warmth, leaning back and resting a hand on her bump. “What’s on the schedule for today, chief?” she questioned, rubbing her abdomen and feeling those same little flutters from Peanut, feeling as if her heart was imploding at all the love she was longing to give to her and Enjolras’ child.

“Lunch here, appointment with Dr. Bourrienne, and then we can do whatever you want to do for the rest of the day,” Enjolras replied, flipping through the menu as Éponine toyed with a fork.

“Ooh, can we go to the Disney store?” Éponine asked in excitement, sitting up straighter in her chair and leaning forward. “I want to buy some plushies for Peanut’s nursery. It’s never too early to start decorating, right?”

Enjolras laughed at her enthusiasm, taking note of the food he wanted as he told her, “’Ponine, don’t you think we’ll get enough of those at that baby shower Cosette’s been talking about?”

“So? I want at least one of Peanut’s things to be from us,” Éponine responded, gently caressing her stomach and smiling to herself when she felt those little flutters yet again. Enjolras bowed his head under the pretense of looking through the menu, unable to resist a smile at how happy Éponine appeared to be.

God, he loved her so much.

He was reluctant about actually saying those three magic words out loud, though—after what had happened the last time he said it to her, he was terrified of saying it again for fear of things going to shit like they had last time. For now, he was willing to settle with different ways of showing her that he loved her—gentle little hand squeezes and forehead kisses were enough for now for the both of them.

After the both of them had called a waitress over to give her their orders, Éponine took the time to observe her surroundings, glancing out the window at the billboards and watching the people going about their business down in the middle of Times Square. She watched a crowd of tourists being escorted about and a little girl running around with her friend, their parents close behind them, and she smiled at the thought of Peanut doing the exact same thing in a few years as her eyes wandered to look around the restaurant. The other tables were more or less occupied and Éponine’s eyes had just landed on a shadowy corner near the restrooms when her blood ran cold at the sight of a familiar-looking man.

Enjolras looked up from the book he had brought along and had been reading, noticing how Éponine tensed up, and his eyes followed her gaze, landing on the man partially obscured by shadows in the corner. “You okay?” he asked her, concerned at the unease in Éponine’s dark eyes as he reached across their table for two to take her hand and squeeze it.

Éponine narrowed her eyes at the man, trying to put a name to him before he raised his menu to his face, shielding him from view, and she shook her head as if trying to regain her senses. It was nothing to worry about; he was probably just a stranger who resembled the man she thought she saw, even though she was almost certain she saw a brief look of recognition flicker across his face before he raised the menu to his face. She was probably just being paranoid after that incident on the subway in which she thought she glimpsed that very same man she thought she had just seen in the corner in a crowded train car despite the fact that she hadn’t seen him in five years after cutting all ties with him.

“It’s nothing,” she replied in a low voice, turning her attention back to Times Square, looking out the window at the crowds before turning back to glance at Enjolras. “My mind’s probably just playing tricks on me.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, silently telling her that he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he said nothing else as he gently let go of her hand and went back to reading his book. Éponine stole another quick glance at the man in the corner—his face was still hidden from view by his menu. She shook it off as a waitress approached with the garlic bread and soup she had ordered, telling herself that she was just being paranoid again. She simply dipped her garlic bread in the soup and took a bite out of it, observing the billboards advertising various Broadway shows and letting the man she thought she had recognised slip her mind.

Once she and Enjolras had finished up their lunch, they found that they still had a couple of hours before the appointment. Once Éponine and Enjolras were standing outside of Olive Garden, her hand in his, she turned her head to look up at him, suggesting, “Why don’t we go to the Disney store now?”

Enjolras leaned in to kiss her forehead, smiling to himself as he did so. “Anything you want.”

By the time they were swept into the store, finding that it wasn’t nearly as packed as it usually tended to be, Éponine had completely forgotten about the man in the shadows as she gushed over the adorable Stitch plushies on display in a corner. “’Jolras, look at how cute this one is!” she exclaimed, a grin breaking out on her face as she picked up a plushie of Stitch dressed as a bunny with a little blue gingham bow, melting at how soft it was. “It’s so soft; we have to get this one.”

Enjolras felt like his heart was imploding at Éponine’s enthusiasm, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “Do you want anything else or is this just it?”

“Just this,” Éponine replied, holding the stuffed doll up to her cheek and feeling how incredibly soft it was and laughing. “You know, maybe this whole baby thing isn’t going to be so bad after all.” Just then she felt another little flutter in her stomach and laughed even harder, nearly doubling over at how deliriously happy she was.

Once they had exited the Disney store, they made their way to the subway station to make their way over to the clinic, Éponine’s hand in Enjolras’ as she clutched the little bag containing the plushie for Peanut. By the time they got off the train at their stop, she had a bit of a spring in her step as they walked up to the clinic, and Enjolras could have sworn that she was actually humming to herself as she checked in, walking over to sit in a corner and waiting for her name to be called.

“You’re happy today,” he observed out loud as he took a seat beside her.

Éponine turned her head to flash him a grin. “What can I say? My life’s great right now. I’ve got the most fantastic best friend slash boyfriend slash baby daddy, we’ve been having the most amazing sex I’ve ever had in my fucking life in the past two weeks, and I’ve actually got a great feeling about this whole Peanut thing. Maybe I won’t fuck up this whole parenting thing as much as I thought I would.”

Enjolras had no idea how to respond to that, taking her hand instead as she took her phone out to scroll through Buzzfeed and take a few quizzes just for the fun of it. She was humming some showtune Enjolras couldn’t quite name to herself by the time her name was called, and she practically jumped to her feet and took the plastic cup from Alison before immediately heading off to the bathroom, handing the plastic bag containing Peanut’s Stitch plushie to Enjolras and leaving him standing in the hallway with Alison.

Alison stared after Éponine with a stunned look in her eyes, finding that this was the most cheerful the young woman had been during any appointment. “She seems happy,” she remarked to Enjolras, watching as Éponine disappeared into the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Enjolras replied rather breathlessly, bewildered. One moment she was all tense because of someone she thought she had seen in a restaurant and the next she was gushing over little Disney plushies and skipping amid the grey slush of New York City. He supposed it was just the hormones causing such mood swings, and he figured he should enjoy it while he could; he had heard stories of how pregnant people tended to place blame on their partners later in pregnancy for their aching bodies and sore feet, and so he would enjoy these happy days while he could.

Once Éponine came out of the bathroom, she grabbed Enjolras’ hand and cheerily followed Alison into the exam room, not even complaining when Alison had to draw blood like she had at the previous two appointments. “Well, aren’t you just glowing,” the nurse commented jovially as she patched Éponine up once the blood had been drawn. Éponine beamed at Alison in response.

“I’ve started showing!” she told Alison excitedly, lifting her shirt up to show her little bump. “And I started feeling Peanut kicking this morning!”

The nurse smiled at Éponine’s enthusiasm and made her way towards the door, telling her and Enjolras, “Dr. Bourrienne will be here soon. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Sure.” Éponine had a loose grip on the edges of the exam table as she swung her legs back and forth, awaiting Dr. Bourrienne’s arrival. Enjolras startled slightly when she reached over to take his hand, pulling him closer to her as she lifted her head up to look up at him. His eyes found hers and he felt as if he was falling in love with her all over again at the way she was gazing up at him.

“Thanks for being here, ’Jolras,” she murmured, giving him a tender little smile and making him feel as if his heart was imploding once again. “I doubt I would have been able to do this alone.”

“I’ll always be here, ’Ponine,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “You and Peanut are my top priorities.”

Éponine bowed her head, trying and promptly failing to stifle the silly little grin that threatened to break out on her face before looking back up at him, settling for a close-lipped smile. “Look at you, already going all papa bear,” she teased lightly, giggling at how he blushed pink as she slid off the exam table, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands. “Get down here, you dork.”

Enjolras’ lips had barely brushed Éponine’s when they heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing, prompting the both of them to jump apart and turn scarlet once they saw that Dr. Bourrienne had entered the exam room. The older woman gave the both of them a knowing smile as Éponine hopped back up on the exam table, her cheeks burning as she avoided eye contact.

“Did I interrupt something?” Dr. Bourrienne questioned amiably, taking a seat and opening up her laptop as she had done during past appointments. Enjolras felt his cheeks grow hot, giving a tiny nod of embarrassment.

“We’re so sorry you had to see that,” he apologised profusely, recalling just why both he and Éponine disliked PDA after her doctor had walked in on them.

“No worries, Enjolras,” Dr. Bourrienne replied, giving him and Éponine a little smile. “I’ve always thought you two make a lovely couple.”

“Oh, we actually just made things official two weeks ago,” Éponine told Dr. Bourrienne, swinging her legs and feeling herself blush at the implications in Dr. Bourrienne’s words. Had she always thought they were together?

A brief look of surprise flickered across Dr. Bourrienne’s face, her mouth forming a little ‘O’ for a millisecond before she composed herself. “So, Éponine, how have you been?” she asked, changing the subject, much to Éponine and Enjolras’ relief.

“I’ve started to show!” Éponine told Dr. Bourrienne in excitement, lifting her shirt up as she had done with Alison and pointing to her little baby bump. “I also felt Peanut kick this morning!”

“That’s good, then!” Dr. Bourrienne typed this all up as Éponine and Enjolras watched, and just then, she felt those same little flutters in her stomach, undoubtedly from Peanut.

“Peanut just kicked again,” Éponine informed Dr. Bourrienne happily, her hand going to her little bump. “Just now. I felt it.”

“What does it feel like?” Dr. Bourrienne prompted, turning to give all her attention to the young woman sitting on the exam table.

Éponine considered her answer for a moment, trying to come up with the right words. “It feels… weird,” she said at last, rubbing her abdomen. “A good kind of weird, though. It feels a lot like butterflies, but it just feels different from butterflies, somehow. Am I making any sense? I’m probably not making any sense. It just feels like something’s moving around in me, I guess. It feels good.”

“You’ll start feeling Peanut moving a lot more further into your second trimester,” Dr. Bourrienne told her, turning her whole body away from her laptop. “How have you been doing so far? Been taking your prenatal vitamins?”

“Every day,” Éponine replied dutifully.

“Fatigue?” Dr. Bourrienne questioned.

Éponine pursed her lips, trying to figure out her answer before replying, “Well, I haven’t been as tired as I had been before, but I’ve been having these weird dreams.”

Dr. Bourrienne raised an eyebrow, turning to her laptop to type something into Éponine’s file once more. “Can you describe these dreams to me?” the doctor requested, glancing at Éponine.

“Well, I’m probably just anxious deep down about motherhood, I guess,” Éponine replied, tiptoeing around the question as she attempted to work out an answer. “Sometimes in my dreams I forget and leave Peanut someplace, and other times I’m just… trapped, trapped somewhere dark. I felt like a caged animal.”

Enjolras furrowed his brow, wondering why she had never brought the subject up to him before. This could explain why more often than not, she tended to be clinging to him as if her life depended on it by the time they both woke up.

“Maybe you should try keeping a journal,” Dr. Bourrienne suggested, turning back to Éponine. “They’ve helped other people through pregnancies before.”

Éponine smiled gratefully at Dr. Bourrienne, finding that it wasn’t such a bad idea. She could pour her heart out in a journal in addition to writing down her dreams as she tried to make sense of them, and she could write letters to Peanut. “I’ll be sure to look into it.”

Dr. Bourrienne looked through Éponine’s file once again and clicked her tongue in satisfaction, smiling and cheerfully saying, “Well, everything looks great, Éponine! On to the ultrasound now, shall we?”

She complied and lay down on the exam table as she had done during the previous two appointments, taking the sheet from Dr. Bourrienne and covering herself with it once she had unbuttoned her pants and pulled her shirt up. Grabbing Enjolras’ hand, Éponine shivered slightly at the feeling of the gel being spread across her stomach as Dr. Bourrienne spread it using the transducer, the grainy image of their Peanut appearing on-screen. Éponine laughed at how much bigger Peanut seemed to be compared to their last appointment, excitedly pointing out to Enjolras, “Look, Peanut’s sucking their thumb!”

“I think they waved at us,” he replied, his hand squeezing Éponine’s as he grinned like an idiot at the sight of their baby on the screen, already wishing he could be holding Peanut in his arms.

Dr. Bourrienne smiled at the couple, just as entranced as ever by the grainy image of their baby on the screen; Peanut was indeed sucking their thumb, much to their parents’ delight. “Your Peanut will be growing quite a bit during this second trimester,” Dr. Bourrienne told Éponine, using the nickname she and Enjolras had for the baby. “You’ll feel them move a lot more as you grow bigger.”

The smile on Éponine’s face gradually faded as she realised that she would probably never be able to fit into her favourite clothes again, at least not as long as she was still pregnant with Peanut, and she groaned almost inaudibly at the thought of not being able to shave her legs or even see her toes. “Oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath, hoping it wouldn’t be as hard as she imagined it would be.

“You okay?” Enjolras asked for the second time that day, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze.

She turned her head to glare up at him, evoking a little flinch. “I won’t be able to see my fucking toes after a few months. You made me like this.”

Enjolras shook his head and smoothed her hair using his free hand, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead as Dr. Bourrienne watched the two of them with an amused smile on her face. “The pictures will be available at the front desk as usual,” she told them as she handed a roll of paper towels to Éponine to wipe off the gel with. “Again, just call me if you have any questions or concerns. I’d like to schedule an appointment when you’re around twenty-two weeks along, in five weeks or so. Would March nineteenth be okay?”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Éponine said gratefully as she pulled on her thick coat after pulling on her layers, a grin on her face. “Really, I can’t thank you enough. March nineteenth seems good.” She grabbed the plastic bag containing Peanut’s plushie and proceeded to practically skip her way out of the exam room, leaving Enjolras standing there with Dr. Bourrienne. “’Jolras, come on!” they heard her call from the hallway, the sound of her footsteps growing fainter by the moment.

Dr. Bourrienne smiled and turned to Enjolras. “She seems happy,” the doctor commented, giving him a knowing smile and making him flush scarlet. “You two are good for each other.”

“You think so?” Enjolras’ blue eyes lit up at the doctor’s words, sounding rather hopeful. God, he definitely hoped they were.

“Yes,” Dr. Bourrienne replied surely. “I may not know you two very well outside of this office, but anyone can see that you two are a good influence on each other. They don’t call the second trimester the honeymoon period for nothing, you know.” She resisted a chuckle when Enjolras’ face turned even redder at the implications in her knowing smile. “May I ask an impertinent question, Enjolras?”

“Yeah, we’ve been having a lot of sex in the past couple of weeks, if that’s what you were about to ask,” he muttered rapidly under his breath, not even waiting for her to say something, feeling his cheeks burning.

“Well, that’s good!” Enjolras looked up; he hadn’t been expecting that response from Dr. Bourrienne. When he gave her a quizzical look, she explained, “It’s a good way to stay physically close during pregnancy. If there are no complications, it’s perfectly fine to have sex all throughout pregnancy.”

“Good to—good to know,” Enjolras managed to choke out, rather unnerved by how casually the doctor was speaking of such things. He never liked discussing sex, even with his closest friends, and sometimes he wondered if it was due to the fact that he was on the ace spectrum. His thoughts soon left his head at the sound of Éponine’s voice, and he looked up to find that she had poked her head in through the doorway.

“’Jolras, come on,” she repeated, holding up a handful of ultrasound photos and grinning in delight when he made his way over to her. “Thanks again, Dr. Bourrienne. We’ll see you in five weeks.”

“Take care,” the doctor called after them as they left the exam room, Éponine’s hand in Enjolras’. Éponine practically skipped out onto the pavement once they had exited the clinic, twirling around among the snow lazily drifting down, and Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it was to see her so genuinely happy for the first time in what felt like ages.

Once she had satisfied herself with her twirls, Éponine darted up to Enjolras and linked her arm with his. “Shall we go, dearest?” she asked, snorting in amusement when he grimaced at the pet name. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, smiling at how he blushed scarlet and asking, “Where to?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Wherever you want to go.”

“Applebee’s?” Éponine requested hopefully, perking up at his generous offer.

Enjolras smiled down at her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Applebee’s it is.”

The two of them began to make their way down the pavement to the subway station, completely oblivious to the man standing on the street corner watching them leave the clinic. Exhaling, a puff of cigarette smoke escaping his mouth, he dropped the cigarette into the slush, stomping out the remainders of the flame as he watched the couple disappear from view as they rounded a corner, presumably on their way to the subway station. Taking out another cigarette, he placed it in his mouth and held up his lighter to it, the scent of nicotine lingering on his fingers as he began to walk, blending into the crowds that passed by.

* * *

“You’re looking happy,” Sebastian commented as he stayed behind in class to chat with Éponine, his classmates filtering out of the classroom after Éponine finished their lesson for the day. She had a goofy little smile on her face as she went around cleaning off the tables in the art studio, wanting a clean room to work on that painting of her and her friends standing at the base of Hogwarts that she had been working on for a while now in her free time in since she would have a free period to herself once Sebastian left the classroom.

Éponine looked up, giving her student her best annoyingly cheerful smile. “And what about it?”

“Did you get laid again?” Sebastian had the audacity to ask, grinning slyly as he hopped up to perch on the edge of a table, swinging his legs. Éponine was rather irritated sometimes by the fact that he was taller than her, but that wasn’t what she was focusing on right now.

Éponine only smiled even more, putting on her best, most infuriatingly smug face. “Why would you care?”

Sebastian shrugged, pulling a Slim Jim out of his backpack and taking a huge bite out of it. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen someone so happy.” Taking another bite out of his Slim Jim, he commented through a mouthful of jerky, “I think you’re the only person I know who can pull off a leather jacket and a baby bump.”

“No eating in the classroom, Sebastian,” Éponine chided, looking up. She was about nineteen weeks along now and her bump had grown considerably; outside, she was still _somewhat_ able to get away with hiding it under her layers because of the cold weather, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it for much longer as the days grew longer and warmer and she grew bigger. “Why can’t I be happy? I went through a lot of shit when I was your age, you know. I’m pretty sure I deserve to be happy.”

“I never said you didn’t,” Sebastian replied, taking another bite of his ridiculously long Slim Jim. Just then, he heard a knock at the door and turned his head curiously to see who it was, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous guy tentatively opening the door.

“What is it?” Éponine looked up to see Enjolras entering the classroom dressed in that stupid tailored lawyer suit of his, and she furrowed her brow in surprise as he smiled sheepishly at showing up unannounced.

Sebastian looked back and forth between the two of them, letting out a long, low whistle as his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, _wow_ , what’s this piece of man candy doing here?” he asked in interest, cackling when Enjolras turned scarlet at the teenager’s words. “Wait, let me guess—is he the baby daddy?”

“Sebastian!” Éponine scolded, turning beet red at her student’s boldness.

“Well, is he?” Sebastian pressed, wiggling his eyebrows at his teacher. It reminded Enjolras of Courfeyrac.

“Yes, I am,” Enjolras confirmed, rather apprehensive about joining the conversation as he approached his girlfriend, his footsteps hesitant.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open as Éponine went over to Enjolras to embrace him, having just swallowed the last of his Slim Jim before he laughed again. “Damn, Miss T, your boyfriend’s _hot_.”

“I never said he was my boyfriend,” Éponine replied quickly, an arm around Enjolras’ waist as she turned to give Sebastian a look.

“Um, I’m pretty sure he is, if I’m gonna go by the way he’s making googly eyes at you right now,” Sebastian drawled, smirking triumphantly when Éponine turned even redder and Enjolras bowed his head to avoid eye contact with the quick-witted student. Taking a bag of Doritos out of his backpack, Sebastian opened it and began to munch on chips as he said, “For real, your boyfriend is, like, really fucking hot. Like you! Fuck, your baby’s gonna be a fucking _knockout_ when they’re older. Is he good in bed? I mean, I assume you two did the do at some point, since you’re all knocked up now.”

“Get out, you little shit!” Éponine shouted, laughing and resisting the urge to chuck something at his head. Sebastian finally hopped off the table he had been sitting on and he began to make his way over to the door, cackling loudly. “Do your homework for your other classes!”

“Not a chance!” he yelled back as he left the classroom, closing the door behind him.

Éponine laughed and shook her head as Sebastian disappeared from view, presumably on his way to his next class, and she turned to look at Enjolras. “’Jolras, what are you doing here?” she asked, pleasantly surprised at the visit.

“I wanted to see you,” Enjolras admitted, turning pink. Turning to stare at the door Sebastian had gone out through, he remarked, “That Sebastian kid seems to like you.”

“I like to think all my students do,” Éponine replied breezily, looking around to make sure they were alone before standing on tiptoe to give him a light peck on the lips, giggling at how he turned even pinker. “What’s up?”

“Can’t I visit my girlfriend at work every once in a while?” Enjolras teased, feeling his cheeks grow warm at the smile on Éponine’s face. “Like I said, I just wanted to see you. Is that enough of an excuse?”

Éponine laughed once again and reached up, placing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. “It’s more than enough,” she whispered, hopping up on her toes and pressing her lips to his in a tender kiss. He readily kissed her back, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her flush against him, feeling her bump through her shirt and feeling butterflies in his stomach upon remembering that that was his baby in there, sighing in delight when she reached up into his hair, her fingers tangling into his golden curls as she kissed him even more insistently. Softly moaning his name against his lips, her moan barely audible, one of her hands slid down to grab his ass and he abruptly broke away from her with a groan, his face flushed red, his blue eyes having darkened considerably.

“’Ponine, we’re not going to have sex in your classroom,” Enjolras told her firmly, although the bulge she could feel through his pants indicated otherwise. “There are kids here, and I don’t want to get you fired.”

“Mmmmm.” Éponine toyed with his tie, pulling it teasingly and gazing up into his eyes through a heated brown gaze as she hummed, a little smirk playing at her lips. “I don’t know. You came just in time, you know—I have a free period all to myself right now. I can keep quiet, but can you?”

She pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips, enjoying how he groaned under his breath when she reached down to squeeze his erection through his pants before he pushed her off. “Éponine, please,” Enjolras choked out, placing his hands on her waist and gazing into her eyes. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not loving this, but can this wait until tonight? There are kids around. I don’t want you to get fired from your job when you love it so much.”

Éponine pouted, knowing he was right, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him once again. “Okay, fine. Don’t you have work today?”

“My boss told me to take a couple of days off,” Enjolras replied, his hand going down to caress her little bump. “I’ve been working a lot lately. She said to take some time for myself. Besides, the girl’s case is all settled now; her uncle’s been convicted.”

Éponine laughed and bowed her head, smiling as she watched his hand tenderly rubbing her abdomen, feeling as if her heart was about to burst when Peanut kicked at their father’s touch. “I know you can’t feel it yet, but Peanut just kicked,” she told him softly, looking up and smiling when his blue eyes lit up. “They’re not even here yet and they already love you!”

He chuckled, kissing her again and murmuring, “God, ’Ponine, I—” He cut himself off, remembering at the last second how she had reacted the last time he said that to her. He wasn’t going to overwhelm her, not now, not when things were going so well. Thankful upon seeing that she seemingly hadn’t noticed how abruptly he had cut himself off, he pulled back, a dorky grin on his face as he gazed into her eyes.

“You can’t hang out at the school all day, you know,” Éponine reminded him, a playful edge to her voice as she ruffled his curls. “Why don’t you go buy some of those weird ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ books you like to read?”

“Maybe I will,” he retorted, failing at keeping an impassive face when she pressed yet another kiss to his lips.

“Also, can you go grocery shopping?” she requested, giving him an innocent smile. “We haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while and I’d really rather not fight about it like we did last time. I’ve also been craving some gummy bears and Ben and Jerry’s, so could you get me some too?”

“What flavour?” Enjolras asked.

“Chocolate fudge brownie,” Éponine replied, a satisfied little smile on her face. “Can you get me some mustard and ketchup to go with it too?”

Enjolras could barely resist the urge to gag, but he could either satisfy her cravings or have her be angry at him for failing to do so, so he nodded. “I’ll be sure to.”

Éponine grinned up at him and pulled him into a kiss, her lips capturing his and a sigh escaping her mouth as he kissed her back, arms around her waist. Once he pulled away, she reached up to cup his jaw, murmuring playfully, “Go away, nerd. I have work to do. I’ll see you at home.”

Enjolras pressed a kiss to her forehead before he detached himself from her, making his way to the doorway and beginning, “Éponine, I—” He stopped short, noticing how she raised her eyebrows at how he cut himself off. Hastily, he amended, “I’ll see you at home.”

Éponine impulsively ran across the room to him. “One more kiss,” she bargained, quickly pressing her lips to his before pulling back, leaving him in a daze as he walked out of the room. Smiling to herself, she went over to the easel she had placed her painting on, taking out some paint and brushes and continuing to work on it, taking out her headphones and zoning out.

That afternoon, she had finally cleaned up her classroom and was out on the streets, making her way to the subway station with a spring in her step. She felt unstoppable. This was the first time she truly felt like things were really going to work out for the best ever since she found out she was pregnant. She was financially stable and had an amazing group of friends, a perfect boyfriend, and a job she loved. She felt like getting herself a celebratory hot dog.

No, she _would_ get a hot dog. A hot dog sounded great.

The skies were cloudless, bright rays of sunlight shining down upon the city that never sleeps despite it only being the end of February. Was it just her, or did the grey slush of the streets seem less grey than usual?

She was on top of the world! It felt like the beginning of a brand new life, a brand new her, the start of something beautiful. Éponine was ready to face whatever shit life was going to throw at her. She was fucking _ready_.

Just then she saw a man approaching her, that same man she thought she had glimpsed in Olive Garden a couple of weeks ago as well as the subway and in front of a bookstore, and her cheerful mood immediately vanished, her blood running cold when they made eye contact. She felt like turning to run the other way when they collided right there on the pavement, nearly dropping her bag as she looked up to stare into his dark, beady eyes, her throat having gone dry.

 _Shit. Fuck! I take it back! I take it all back. Universe, please,_ please _don’t be a bitch!_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't really think i'd post a super-long fluff-ridden chapter without there being a catch, right?
> 
> [this](https://www.picclickimg.com/d/l400/pict/112674006396_/Disney-Store-Exclusive-Bunny-Rabbit-Stitch-Lilo.jpg) is the stitch plushie they bought at the disney store, my baby cousin actually has it so i took inspiration from that!


	11. Chapter XI

“Éponine.” Montparnasse’s lips curled into a smile that sent shivers down Éponine’s spine, and not the good kind, either. “Long time, no see.”

“What are you doing here, Montparnasse?” Éponine asked, trying not to let her anger and unease show. Instinctively, her hand flew to her abdomen, rubbing it protectively. “I broke things off a long time ago. Five years, to be exact.”

“So you’re knocked up, huh?” His eyes fell to her stomach, and to Éponine’s dismay, she realised that she had the faintest outline of her bump showing through her coat. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, refusing to let his mere presence get to her and feeling slight comfort from Peanut kicking.

“Is that any way to greet a pregnant woman, Monty?” she replied, feigning sweetness and using the nickname she had had for him back when they were children and he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he was now. “Why do you care?”

“I didn’t know you were in a relationship,” Montparnasse drawled, changing the subject. Éponine had forgotten how much his habit of doing that had irritated her back when they were still friends.

“Again, _why do you care_?” Éponine questioned hotly, growing more irritated by the moment. “We’re not friends anymore, Montparnasse. Go away.”

“I just wanted to tell you that your parents are out on parole,” he informed her, finally cutting to the chase. She tensed up upon hearing the news—out of all things, that was the last thing she had expected to hear from him. Then again, she didn’t know _what_ she had expected in the first place. “They’re looking for you, you know. Wanted to see what you and Azelma and Gavroche are up to nowadays.”

“Bullshit,” Éponine muttered under her breath. Her father probably just wanted to drag her back into his gang’s schemes, get her to help them out like she had done in high school before she managed to get away from them upon graduation. He had been nothing but a toxic influence on her and Azelma, and though her mother had been slightly better, it was still only slight. Instead of actively abusing them as their father had done, their mother had been neglectful and uncaring. “They kicked Gav out nine years ago. They clearly don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Well, maybe they changed their minds,” Montparnasse said rather dismissively, inspecting his cuticles and not seeming to care very much about what Éponine’s father actually thought. He was just the messenger, after all. “I just wanted to let you know. You do know your dad has connections, right? He’s found out where Gavroche goes to school and he says he’s planning on seeing him at some point.”

“He wouldn’t,” Éponine contradicted, trying not to let the horror in her voice be heard at the thought of her father going anywhere near her baby brother. “He doesn’t give a shit about Gav.”

“Like I said, maybe he and your mom changed their minds,” Montparnasse reiterated. “Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you.” He eyed her little bump once more, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s the dad?”

“My boyfriend,” Éponine gritted through clenched teeth, balling one of her hands up into a fist. “No offence, but I don’t see why this is any of your business. Have a nice life, Montparnasse.” She turned on her heel and began to walk away as fast as she could, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to follow her to the subway, her breathing rather uneven after that unexpected, unwanted encounter with the last person she expected to see.

Forget the hot dog. Forget going straight home. She had to go see her sister.

Once she had gotten off at Azelma’s subway stop, Éponine rushed to Azelma’s apartment, running up the icy steps and nearly slipping as she impatiently rang the doorbell, letting out a frustrated huff when Azelma didn’t answer. Her hand flying to the doorknob, she experimentally tried to turn it and let out a surprised gasp when the door opened slightly. Azelma hadn’t locked her door? That was strange.

Éponine threw open the door and stepped inside only to be greeted by the sight of Courfeyrac’s bare back angled atop a clearly naked Azelma in her bed, moans ringing out through the little studio apartment. As Courfeyrac was kissing her neck, Azelma finally noticed Éponine standing there in the doorway, frozen in shock and mortification, and her face went nearly as red as her hair.

“Shit!” Azelma shoved Courfeyrac off of her and he fell to the floor with a yelp, stark naked. Éponine squeezed her eyes shut as Azelma wrapped her blankets around herself, tossing a pillow at Courfeyrac to cover himself with. “What the _fuck_ , Éponine?” she yelled, completely mortified as Courfeyrac rushed to put his clothes on while Éponine still had her eyes shut. Within moments, Éponine could feel Courfeyrac frantically shoving past her in his desperation to get out of the apartment, and Éponine finally opened her eyes, finding that Azelma was, thankfully, clothed now, and she shuddered as she went over to sit on the sofa.

“I’m scarred,” Éponine muttered, wishing she could shake the image of Courfeyrac and Azelma having sex out of her mind as Azelma went over to sit beside her, face still flushed scarlet in embarrassment.

“Ring the doorbell before barging in, asshole!” Azelma cried out, socking Éponine in the shoulder.

“I did,” Éponine replied wryly. “You didn’t answer, and you didn’t lock the door, so I just opened it and there you were, clearly fucking Courf.” Rubbing her temple, completely tired of the whole Courfeyrac and Azelma debacle, she said, “I thought you two didn’t want anything to do with each other after you broke things off.”

“Why did you just show up unannounced?” Azelma asked, more than eager to change the subject and take her mind off of Courfeyrac.

“Don’t change the subject, Azelma,” Éponine said unexpectedly sharply. “What the hell is going on between you two?”

Azelma looked down into her lap, at a loss for words. “I—I don’t know,” she admitted at last, her breath catching in her throat. What _was_ going on between her and Courfeyrac? The two of them had been ignoring each other for the past few months whenever they weren’t at each other’s throats, and then that morning he had just showed up at her place to tell her he was sorry about being such a dick and the next thing they knew they were in her bed. “He just—he showed up this morning, babbling on and on about how sorry he was about being a dick, and I apologised as well for being a bitch to him and then we just—I don’t know. We just… we ended up having sex not long after that.”

Éponine examined Azelma’s look of frustration and despair, realisation dawning on her face and her dark eyes widening once she realised what exactly it was her baby sister was feeling. “You _like_ him,” she realised out loud, her eyes wide.

“No, I don’t,” Azelma denied, turning away and hugging her knees to her chest.

“Call it what you want, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Éponine informed her flatly, leaning back and taking off her coat, rubbing her little bump. “Remember when you two were still fighting? I saw how he looked at you whenever you were ignoring him.”

“Can we _please_ discuss this later?” Azelma begged, a pleading look in her hazel eyes. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Éponine. Why did you come here?”

“Okay, fine, but we’ll have to talk about this later,” Éponine told her firmly. “Anyway, I ran into Montparnasse earlier.”

Azelma’s eyes widened in shock. “What the hell was he doing? We haven’t seen him in years.”

“Our parents are out on parole,” Éponine said, beginning to wring her hands together. “Apparently they’re looking for us, to catch up on how we’re doing.”

Azelma snorted in derision. “They were abusive fucks, and now they act as if everything’s fine and dandy?”

“Apparently so,” Éponine responded, sarcasm oozing from her tone. “You know how Dad has connections, right? Apparently he’s found out where Gav goes to school and wants to see him.”

“He has no fucking right!” Azelma exclaimed, anger beginning to creep into her tone. “He was the one who kicked Gav out and now he wants to see him?”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Éponine agreed dryly. “So yeah, just be careful. Our parents could be stalking us or something. I don’t know. Stalking seems pretty far-fetched, but who knows what they’ll do?”

“I doubt they’ll be able to actually hurt us.” A thoughtful look crossed Azelma’s face as she pointed out, “They’re still on parole. They wouldn’t be able to do much even if they wanted to.”

Éponine realised that Azelma was right, and she immediately felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Still, it couldn’t hurt to be cautious, and she considered beginning to pick up Gavroche from school just to make sure he was all right. For some reason, she still felt the need to protect her baby brother from their parents as she had done a million years ago before he got kicked out and their parents’ behaviour progressively got worse.

After a moment of silence, Azelma shifting uncomfortably in her seat, feeling an ache between her legs from the way Courfeyrac had ravaged her earlier, Éponine got up and pulled her coat on, picking her bag up off the coffee table. “Well, I’m going to go home now,” she told Azelma, beginning to head to the door. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt again by our parents.”

“Okay,” Azelma murmured as Éponine opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air and making her shiver before she stepped out, leaving Azelma alone in her apartment with her thoughts.

In spite of everything their parents had put them through, they had never stopped calling them Mom and Dad.

* * *

“I’m home,” Éponine called out, sounding more dejected than usual as she opened the door to her and Enjolras’ apartment, shaking the snow off of her coat on the welcome mat before she took it off to hang it up.

Enjolras appeared in the kitchen doorway, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?” he asked, noticing her glum state.

“It’s nothing. I just ran into an old acquaintance on my way home from work,” Éponine told him, peeling off her clothes and going over to sit on the couch in a hoodie she had stolen from Enjolras and her TARDIS-patterned leggings, rubbing her bump and feeling Peanut kick. “He told me my parents are out on parole now and they’re looking for me and Zel and Gav.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Enjolras asked worriedly, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and smiling slightly to himself when she snuggled up to him almost immediately.

“No, I think we’ll be fine,” Éponine assured him, lifting her head up to kiss his cheek. “They’re still on parole, after all. They can’t possibly hurt us that much.” Laying her head on Enjolras’ shoulder as she picked up the remote to play some movie on demand, she mumbled, “I went to Zel’s place to tell her about it and walked in on her and Courf fucking.” She shuddered at the mental image, not quite able to get it out of her mind, and Enjolras made a face from just thinking about it.

“I thought they broke things off,” he said, beginning to absent-mindedly twirl a lock of her hair around his finger as she chose _Roman Holiday_ for about the tenth time in that week alone. Was it some pregnant person thing? Enjolras wasn’t quite sure.

“Apparently they made up this morning and ended up fucking,” Éponine replied, shrugging it off. “I think I’ll start picking up Gav from school just to be sure he’s safe. Our parents kicked him out when he was eight, and even if they _are_ on parole, who knows what they could somehow do to him? I can’t let my baby brother get hurt again.”

Enjolras smiled at how protective she seemed of Gavroche, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re going to be a great mom, you know,” he told her softly, kissing her cheek when she lifted her head up. She let out a soft moan when he began to kiss her neck, trailing kisses up to her earlobe and nibbling at it slightly as he murmured, “You practically raised your own siblings, didn’t you? You’ll be an amazing mom.”

“’Jolras, stop that,” Éponine managed to say, her voice rather hoarse as he pulled back. “I want to watch this first. Then we can have sex, if that’s what you want.”

“Only if you want it too,” Enjolras replied earnestly, making her blush. God, was what with her intense sex drive lately? It wasn’t that she didn’t love it, but _damn_ , a single sentence from her boyfriend shouldn’t be enough to make her wet.

Deciding to change the subject to take her mind off of sex, Éponine asked, “Did you get me that ice cream I asked for?”

“I did, actually,” Enjolras replied, kissing her cheek. “Do you want me to get it for you? It’s in the freezer.”

“Nah, I can get it myself.” She got up and disappeared into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “So how was your day?”

“I went grocery shopping like you told me to,” Enjolras called back, watching Gregory Peck on the TV screen with mild interest as Éponine presumably went about getting her ice cream and ketchup and mustard. “I went to see R in Central Park afterwards, he was there with Toby, sketching people for money again. It’s your turn to do the laundry, by the way.”

“I’ll do it later,” Éponine told him, walking back into the living room with a tub of ketchup and mustard-covered ice cream in her arms, a large spoon in one hand. It was all Enjolras could do not to gag at the sight of it. Taking an enormous spoonful of it and shoving it in her mouth, she moaned in bliss at the taste, saying thickly, “I mean, I might as well do it while I’m still able to bend over without being unable to get up.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras agreed, grimacing at the sight of her shovelling ice cream with ketchup and mustard into her mouth. Noticing how he was watching her, Éponine held the spoon out to him.

“You want to try some?” she offered, laughing when he almost violently shook his head, completely grossed out by her cravings. “Okay, your loss then.”

“’Ponine, _please_.” Enjolras turned his attention back to the movie as Éponine did the same, occasionally stealing glances at her as she happily shovelled ice cream into her mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t matter how gross her cravings were—as long as she was happy, he was content.

 _I love you,_ he thought, terrified of actually saying it out loud after what had gone down last time he said it. Even still, that didn’t stop him from thinking it. God, he thought it a lot, almost too much. He loved her so much. Even if he didn’t have the guts to go out and say it to her face, he was unable to stop thinking it. _I love you so, so much, ’Ponine. I hope you know that._

Éponine was in his arms by the time the movie was finished, the tub of ice cream completely empty, and she pouted, complaining, “I feel so bloated now. Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to finish that entire fucking tub of ice cream?”

Enjolras thought it would be better not to respond to that, instead kissing the top of her head to calm her down. “Do you want to go to bed now?”

“Going to bed sounds great,” Éponine replied, letting out a yawn as she felt Peanut kick once again. “Jesus, your kid can’t stop kicking. We’re going to have to put Peanut on a soccer team one day.”

Enjolras merely chuckled, getting up as she did the same before he took her hand. “Want to go to sleep?”

“Sex can wait,” Éponine mumbled rather absently as she allowed Enjolras to lead her back to their room, wasting no time in climbing into bed once they were in their bedroom. Enjolras climbed in after her, feeling butterflies in his stomach as she snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, calmed down by her steady breathing. Éponine closed her eyes, comforted by the feeling of Enjolras’ arms around her as she mumbled drowsily, “Have you started thinking of names yet?”

“I’ve been looking through that book of baby names Courf gave to me a couple of years ago,” Enjolras replied, stroking her hair and feeling her breathing slow down as she started to doze off, not quite falling asleep just yet.

“Why’d he give you a book of baby names?” He could hear the teasing smile in Éponine’s voice and chuckled.

“It started out as a joke. He said it might come in handy one day,” Enjolras explained quietly. Smiling, he went on, “Turns out he was right.”

Éponine hummed softly, snuggling closer to him as she murmured, “What names have you found so far?”

“I like the name Marianne, for a girl,” he replied, his voice soft as he felt himself drifting off. “What about Liberté?”

“I’ll put Marianne on the—on the list,” Éponine mumbled, letting out a yawn as she wrapped her arms around his midriff. “Liberté is a solid no, though. We’re not going to put our Peanut through that.”

“Fair enough.” Enjolras kissed the top of her head, continuing to stroke her hair as he grew sleepier by the moment. “Celeste?”

“Pretty.” Éponine let out another yawn. “A bit of a mouthful, but pretty. If Peanut’s a boy, why don’t we name them after you?”

“Gabriel?” Enjolras shook his head no, and Éponine resisted a smile upon feeling him shake his head. “No, it would feel weird. Alexandre’s always a possibility, though.” He felt odd about having his own child sharing his first name, but if the child’s first name was the father’s middle name, then he figured he wouldn’t mind as much.

“Alexandre’s going on the list, then.” Éponine wrapped her arms tighter around his midriff, pulling him as close as physically possible to her and clinging to him as if he was her oversized teddy bear. All she wanted to do at the moment was fall asleep in his arms and forget about her earlier encounter with Montparnasse. “What do you think of the name Hugo?”

“We’ll put that on the list too,” Enjolras mumbled, bringing a hand to his lips to stifle a yawn. “Sebastian?”

Éponine wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. “I’ll admit, it’s a nice name, but the Sebastian in my class would never stop gloating if he thought we named our Peanut after him,” she told him, looking up to gaze into his blue eyes and laughing. “He’s already convinced he’s my favourite student as it is. Not that I’m saying he isn’t,” she confided, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s fucking hilarious and surprisingly efficient whenever I leave him in charge of the class when I need to leave to do something. It’s just that a teacher isn’t supposed to have favourites, and besides, he’s kind of obnoxious most of the time. I’ll pass on Sebastian.”

“Okay, then.” Enjolras felt his eyelids growing heavier by the moment, unable to hold back a yawn as he felt Éponine’s steady breaths against his chest. “What about Joseph?”

“Mmm. Pretty, but then everyone would think we named the baby after Bahorel. I’m not objecting to it, per se, but the others might accuse us of having favourites and somehow convince us to have twelve more kids so we could all name them after our friends, and I sure as fuck am not going to go through pregnancy again anytime soon. Maybe someday, but absolutely not anytime soon after Peanut’s born.” Éponine hummed quietly, pressing her ear against his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. “It’s a great name, but no. What do you think of Aurore for a girl? It means dawn and I think it’s pretty, and we could call Peanut Rory for short.” After a few moments of contemplation, she spoke up again. “I also really like the name Daphne. What do you think about Daphne?”

“Mmm. Pretty.” Enjolras let out a yawn, bringing his hand to his lips to stifle it. We’ll make a list in the morning and put those names on it if we haven’t decided on anything by then,” Enjolras told her, his words blending together in his fatigued state. “I found a name that I really liked, if Peanut’s a girl. What do you think about Victoire?”

Éponine perked up, instantly loving the name. “Yes! Victoire! I love it. It’s perfect.”

“So is it settled? If Peanut’s a girl, their name’s going to be Victoire?” Éponine could hear the hopefulness in Enjolras’ tone and she lifted her head up, finding that he had opened his eyes and was gazing at her again, blue eyes full of hope, and she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Victoire it is,” she confirmed, grinning as Enjolras’ entire face lit up in delight. She dragged her body upwards to capture his lips in a tender kiss, giggling softly at how he smiled against her lips. “That is, if Peanut’s a girl. What do you think of Gabrielle as a middle name?” she murmured once she pulled away and went back to her previous position. “That way, Peanut would still somehow be named after you.”

“Well, Victoire Gabrielle does have a nice ring to it,” Enjolras admitted, still stroking Éponine’s hair as he kissed the top of her head once again. “It’s settled, then—if Peanut’s a girl, we’ll name them Victoire Gabrielle.”

“Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras,” Éponine murmured absent-mindedly, testing out how the name sounded rolling off her tongue and not noticing how Enjolras seemed to stop breathing.

“You—you want Peanut to take my name?” Éponine looked up upon hearing Enjolras speaking again, a curious look in her dark eyes as she gazed into his widened blue.

Éponine laughed softly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I? I hate being associated with the name Thénardier—my parents put me through a lot of shit and I’d do anything to be rid of the name. I wouldn’t want Peanut to be associated with my last name.”

“I thought you might have wanted to hyphenate it, at least,” Enjolras murmured, unable to keep the surprise out of his sleepy tone.

“Nah, I want Peanut to take your last name,” Éponine told him, gazing up into his bright blue eyes. “I’ve kind of grown to hate the name Thénardier after all the shit my parents put me through. Besides, Thénardier-Enjolras is a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

The massive smile Enjolras gave her was like sunshine personified, positively beaming at Éponine, and she couldn’t help but smile back, grinning at his bright, endearing smile. “Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras,” he murmured to himself, smiling even more as the words rolled off his tongue with surprising ease. “I love it.”

Éponine settled back down, her head laid on his chest as she mumbled, “What if Peanut’s a boy?”

“I just can’t let go of Alexandre,” Enjolras admitted. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I think Alexandre’s a great name!” Éponine stifled another yawn. “Hugo would make for a good middle name, wouldn’t it? Alexandre Hugo Enjolras.” She laughed softly, mostly to herself. “Has a nice ring to it.” She felt Peanut kick and laughed even more, one hand going down to rub her abdomen. “Seems like Peanut likes their potential names,” she whispered to Enjolras, her lips curling into a little smile.

“So it’s settled, then.” Enjolras had no problem with that; he loved the names he and Éponine had picked out for Peanut.

“It is,” Éponine affirmed, lifting her head up once more to press a light kiss to Enjolras’ lips. “You’re officially named, Peanut,” she whispered to her bump. Laughing, she added as an afterthought, “Well, kind of.”

Once she had settled back in, head on his chest, he stroked her hair and allowed themselves a few moments of peaceful silence before he spoke again, sounding clearly fatigued.

“’Ponine?” She hummed in acknowledgement, stirring slightly. Enjolras questioned, “Why did you want to keep Peanut’s gender a surprise? I mean, I have no problem with that, but I’m just curious.”

“Well, I never really had surprises as a kid, at least surprises that could be considered good ones,” Éponine admitted, her hand tracing the side of Enjolras’ torso, “so I want this particular surprise to be a good one. Besides, a gender reveal is such a straight thing to do.” She shuddered at the thought of it, letting out a soft, good-natured laugh. “I don’t know, it just feels like it would reinforce gender roles, and it just feels like such a heterosexual thing to do, you know? Neither of us are straight and none of our friends are either, so I figured it would be more appropriate—and fun—to keep Peanut’s gender a surprise. Boy, girl, both, or neither, we’ll love them all the same.”

“Well, I’m all for abolishing gender roles, so that sounds fair.” Enjolras absently twirled a lock of her brown hair around his finger, his breathing syncing with hers, and after a while, he murmured, “Can we go to sleep now?”

Éponine laughed, a gentle, lovely sound that was music to Enjolras’ ears. “Yeah, let’s sleep now.” Dragging herself up to press her lips to the skin of his neck, smirking when she felt his breath hitch, she murmured suggestively, “Or we could always do other things, if you’re up for it.”

She let out a delighted squeal when Enjolras flipped them over so he’d be on top of her, leaning down until his lips met hers in a kiss, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he told her, “You know, suddenly I’m not so sleepy anymore.”

She could barely resist giggling when he began to press kisses to her neck, her fingers tangling in his golden curls as a soft moan of his name slipped out of her mouth, and she stifled a laugh at how Peanut kicked—their baby seemed to like it whenever Enjolras kissed Éponine, judging by the way they kicked each time, and it amused her to no end. Once she had pulled his scarlet T-shirt over his head and thrown it off the bed and out of sight, Enjolras pulled back to gaze into her darkened eyes, his large hand cupping her jaw as she traced his abs, marvelling at his six pack.

“’Ponine,” he whispered, tender and loving and everything Éponine could possibly ask for and more, and she pulled him back into another kiss, this one fiercer and more insistent than the last, and she almost instantly forgot about her earlier encounter with Montparnasse and the news about her parents, forgetting about how she had walked in on Courfeyrac and Azelma fucking, forgetting about all her failed past experiences with love and bountiful knowledge when it came to heartbreak.

In that moment, it was only them, the rest of the world slipping away as his lips met hers, and Enjolras was all that mattered.

* * *

Éponine made her way through the throngs of teenagers spilling out the front doors of Gavroche’s school, a self-conscious hand resting on her barely visible bump. Her dark eyes searched the crowds of students for her brother, desperate to tell him of how their father was apparently looking to make amends and start anew with his son. Éponine still thought it was complete and utter bullshit, remembering how much their parents had kicked Gavroche around before finally kicking him out, and she needed to talk to her baby brother about it.

Snow had begun to fall by the time Éponine found Gavroche walking alone, presumably on his way to the subway station, isolated from the rest of his classmates, his backpack dangling over his shoulder. “Gav!” Éponine hissed, grabbing her brother’s shoulder and turning him around, looking up to catch his eye. “Gavroche!”

A look of surprise flitted across Gavroche’s face upon seeing his sister, his brow furrowing as his blue eyes clouded over with concern. “Éponine? What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” she replied matter-of-factly, falling into step beside him as they made their way to the subway station.

“I’m seventeen, Ep,” Gavroche reminded her as the two of them descended onto the subway platform, standing in wait for their train to come by. “I can defend myself.”

“I know that, but I ran into Montparnasse yesterday,” Éponine told him, a grim look crossing her face when Gavroche went still at the revelation. “He told me our parents are out on parole and Dad’s found out where you go to school, and apparently he wants to see you.”

Gavroche frowned, shifting uncomfortably when he recalled how much their parents had hated him most of all out of him and his sisters. He had been seen as nothing but a burden to the family, unnecessary weight, just another mouth to feed, and now their father wanted to see him? “Why would he want to see me?” he asked, his voice rather hoarse as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “He hates me. He told me so himself when he kicked me out.”

He still remembered the day their parents kicked him out onto the streets with nothing but a small backpack containing what few things he owned. He had been a small eight-year-old boy, lost and confused and too young to know why his parents were kicking him out of their home, left to fend for himself in the cold, harsh, unforgiving streets of New York. He had started to run, running to wherever his legs could take him, before a well-meaning woman found him and turned him in. For two years after that, it had been the foster system for him, and when he had been eleven and living in a group home for the time being, Éponine and Azelma had found him and promised to get him out. By some miracle, he had been placed in the care of Grantaire’s family at the age of twelve and Grantaire had instantly become fond of him (although sometimes Gavroche had thought it was because he was the brother of Grantaire’s best friend), leading to him somehow getting custody of the young boy the moment he moved out, and so now here he was—he was going to turn eighteen in April and living with Grantaire and Courfeyrac, the happiest he had ever been ever since his parents kicked him out. Looking back on it now, he wasn’t entirely sure if them kicking him out had even been legal, but it didn’t matter now.

“Yeah,” Gavroche murmured, his voice going lower. “He hates me. Wanting to see me again makes no sense.”

“Montparnasse said he might want to reconnect with you,” Éponine tried, shrugging. “Although I definitely wouldn’t accept any apologies from Dad. If it’s from Mom, then maybe I’ll consider it because she wasn’t nearly as shitty as Dad.” Shifting from one foot to another, one hand on her little bump, she explained, “Anyway, Monty said Dad knows where you go to school and is considering seeing you so I figured I’d start picking you up just to be sure you’re safe. I know they’re on parole, but who knows what they might do? Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gavroche replied, sounding distant as their train came racing to a stop, people spilling out before they could go in. He found a seat for Éponine, grabbing a pole to hang on to as he talked her into sitting down while the train started to move again. “I just…” He had severely mixed feelings about their parents—even after all the shit they had put him through, he never stopped calling them Mom and Dad, and he often caught himself missing their mother, remembering how caring she had been at one point in the early days of his childhood until one day she just… stopped. Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he looked down at Éponine’s bump, which was barely noticeable, and he commented offhandedly, “It’s been a weird few months for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Éponine murmured, looking around at the other passengers in the train car and feeling her heart sink when she saw someone in the corner desperately trying to calm down a screaming baby, thinking about how that would be her in months. The past few months had really been a wild ride for her—she got drunk and had sex with Enjolras on his birthday, she promptly got knocked up with his baby, a series of misunderstandings and graphic dreams led to her questioning her feelings for him, and then somehow a few months later the two of them finally got together. It felt like a million years had passed in the span of an _extremely_ eventful few months.

She felt reassurance upon feeling Peanut kick once more, rubbing her swelling abdomen through her thick coat as a million thoughts raced through her head. Who knows what her parents could be up to at that very moment? Granted, they were still on parole and probably unable to do much, but she still couldn’t help but worry, more so for her siblings and for Peanut than for herself. Regardless of what might happen and regardless of how much her parents might have changed, though, Éponine knew that she never wanted Peanut anywhere near them, not after all Éponine had suffered at their hands. She wanted far better for her child and would stop at nothing to ensure it.

Gavroche helped Éponine to her feet once they reached his stop, Éponine insisting on escorting him back to his place and linking her arm through his before he could protest as they climbed up the stairs onto the pavement. “Éponine, like I said, I’m seventeen,” he reminded her, objection evident in the way he said it as Éponine practically dragged him along on their way back to Courfeyrac and Grantaire’s place. “I can take care of myself!”

“You’re still my baby brother and I’m not going to let our parents do anything to you,” Éponine replied insistently, coming to a stop when they reached the apartment building and letting go of his arm, much to the boy’s relief. “Take care of yourself, okay? Do your homework and stay out of trouble.” Grinning up at him, she added, “Now get out of my face, you little shit.”

“I could say the same thing to you, fuckface,” Gavroche responded swiftly, not missing a beat as he grinned back at her, resisting a laugh when she socked him in the arm. She reached up to ruffle his tousled, windswept dirty blond hair before watching him disappear into the building, satisfied at last with the fact that she had completed her mission and shoving her hands into her pockets, on her way back to the subway station to go home.

She didn’t notice the woman standing alone on a street corner, a cigarette between her lips, gazing after her with a wistful look in her eyes.


	12. Chapter XII

Éponine was sketching on a scrap sheet of paper at her desk as her students spilled out of the art studio, the amount of people in the room gradually decreasing until only one was left. Éponine looked up when Sonia approached her, gesturing for the girl to grab a chair and sit down before her. Over the course of the past two weeks or so, they had gotten into the habit of having little chats here and there between classes at least once a week, and Éponine was more than happy to help Sonia out through pregnancy.

“How have you been, Sonia?” she asked lightly, her eyes falling to the girl’s bump. “Do you need me to scold anyone for you?”

“No, not really,” Sonia replied, quiet and subdued as always. “People have been talking behind my back, but I guess I should have thought of that when I decided to keep my baby.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “The dad—he goes to my old school—he left me the moment he found out.”

Éponine’s face fell at the mere thought of it, wishing she could do more to help out this poor, scared young girl sitting before her. She realised just how lucky she was to be in complete control of her own life, lucky to have Enjolras, and she wished she could just take Sonia in until the girl’s parents saw reason. “Are you okay?”

Sonia, to Éponine’s surprise, nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m actually dating Désirée now, Désirée Anderson? She’s been so supportive, and her parents are letting me live with them for the time being. I’ve been making friends, too—Sebastian’s become pretty protective of me,” she laughed, a hand resting against her bump. “Maddy’s also become protective of me. They argue a lot with each other, but they’re great to be around overall. Actually, I think their arguing is what makes them so fun to be around,” Sonia mused thoughtfully.

“Well, that’s good then!” Éponine felt relieved beyond belief upon finding out that her student had found some support, both financial and emotional. “I’m glad you found people.”

After a few moments of silence, Sonia twiddling her thumbs rather awkwardly, the girl asked, “So how’s it been going with you, Miss T? I saw your boyfriend around school about a week ago.”

“Oh, he just likes to visit me sometimes,” Éponine replied, blushing at the thought of how many times she and Enjolras had nearly had sex in her classroom before he narrowly stopped them from doing so. “He’s great. We’ve been living together for some time, but we only just recently got together, some time after the baby happened. He’s really protective of our Peanut already,” she laughed, rubbing her bump and being greeted by a kick. She was twenty-one weeks along now and had her next appointment with Dr. Bourrienne in a little over a week, and the Amis thoroughly enjoyed making teasing comments about how adorable she looked with her little round belly, much to her embarrassment. “Why did you ask?”

“Sebastian keeps talking about how hot you two are and how attractive your baby will be,” Sonia responded, and Éponine was stunned when the girl giggled. Sonia, usually so subdued and soft-spoken and generally invisible to her classmates, had actually _giggled_. “I can’t say I disagree, honestly. Your boyfriend is really hot, and you’re really pretty,” she told Éponine, shyness creeping into her tone as Éponine’s cheeks turned pink.

“Well, thank you, Sonia,” Éponine said, smiling at the girl. Stealing a glance at the clock, she said, “Well, it looks like you should get going. Keep your head up, okay? Don’t listen to anyone talking shit behind your back. Just know that you’re worth ten of them.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss T.” Sonia bid Éponine goodbye and got to her feet, slinging her backpack over one shoulder as she shuffled over to the door, shutting the door behind her once she had exited the classroom and leaving Éponine alone. She took her phone out to find that Cosette had texted her.

**sunshine girl: are you free on march 24? If you are, do you want to come dress shopping with me?? Chetta and zelma are coming along too!! We need to find you three bridesmaid dresses!!!!**

Éponine smiled to herself and went to check her calendar, finding that she had nothing besides work on the twenty-fourth. Just before she was about to respond, she remembered that she was supposed to pick up Gavroche from school and wondered how she was supposed to do that now. Before she responded to Cosette’s text, she called Enjolras.

 _“Hello?”_ Éponine didn’t realise how she smiled upon hearing Enjolras’ voice at the other end of the line, holding her phone up to her ear. _“What is it, ’Ponine?”_

“Hey, ’Jolras, can you pick up Gav and take him home for me on the twenty-fourth?” she requested, keeping her tone light as she subconsciously twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Cosette wants to go dress shopping for the wedding. Would it be too much trouble?”

 _“Oh, no, I can always pick Gavroche up for you,”_ Enjolras assured her at the other end. Éponine pictured him sitting at his desk in his office, dressed in one of those tailored grey suits of his, and she smiled to herself at the mental image that popped up in her mind. _“It’s no trouble, ’Ponine, really. Do you still want me to come to your appointment with you next week?”_

Éponine laughed, replying, “Of course I do. There’s no reason for you not to, unless you have something going on.” After a hesitant pause, she questioned, “Do you have something going on?”

 _“No, I’m free,”_ Enjolras responded in reassurance. Éponine couldn’t help but smile at hearing his voice through the phone.

“Okay,” she murmured, smiling to herself. Glancing at the clock, she told him, “I have to get ready for another class now. I’ll see you at home tonight, okay?”

 _“Sounds good,”_ Enjolras replied. _“I—”_ He stopped abruptly and Éponine frowned upon hearing him pause. This wasn’t the first time—it had happened numerous times before, but Éponine had never questioned it, knowing he’ll tell her what he was about to say when the time was right. Hearing him clear his throat, she heard him hastily continue, _“I’ll see you tonight. Do you want anything?”_

The curious frown on Éponine’s face was soon replaced by a smile as she replied softly, “Just for you to be there.”

She could’ve sworn she could hear the smile in Enjolras’ voice as he told her, _“I’ll see you then. Bye.”_

“Bye,” she echoed, waiting for him to hang up before she texted Cosette back.

**me: march 24 sounds fine, where should we meet up??**

Within seconds, she received a reply from the blonde and smiled at how enthusiastic and excited she seemed to be about her wedding. Honestly, Éponine couldn’t blame her.

**sunshine girl: I’ll send you the boutique address, we can meet there :D**

**me: sounds like a plan, i’ll see you there :)**

Éponine put her phone down and turned to gaze at her half-finished painting. Hogwarts in the background was turning out nicely, with tiny versions of her and Les Amis standing at the base of it, and she was planning on hanging it up in what was soon to be Peanut’s nursery. Turning back to her desk, she took a handful of photographs from the stack of Polaroids placed neatly beside her pencil case, looking through them and catching herself smiling as she looked at the photographs she had taken over the course of the last several weeks, which was when she finally decided to document the pregnancy, depicting her bump gradually growing bigger with each week that passed by. She had started taking photographs of her bump around the time she and Enjolras made things official, and the growth was subtle, but she could see that it was definitely there. The other photographs were mostly candids of the Amis and sometimes pictures she managed to take during the times she had her camera with her whenever she caught Enjolras smiling. There was a particularly nice photograph of him gazing out the window, lost in thought, a subtle absent-minded smile on his face, and that one photograph somehow always managed to brighten up Éponine’s day.

Her mind was soon cleared of her thoughts when Sebastian poked his head in through the doorway, prompting her to look up. “What is it?” Éponine asked, good-natured exasperation creeping into her tone.

“Is your boyfriend going to be visiting you again anytime soon?” Sebastian enquired in lieu of a greeting, wiggling his eyebrows. “He’s really fucking hot and I was thinking that he’d be a good art model and—”

“Sebastian!” Éponine cut him off, her cheeks flaming red. “You do realise he has a job and a life of his own, right?” Unable to stifle a laugh, she called out, “Go away, you little weirdo. I have work to do.”

Sebastian simply winked and disappeared in the blink of an eye, the sound of his lively whistling growing fainter by the moment as Éponine got up to go over to her painting, shaking her head in amusement and picking up a brush, dipping it in some of the paint she had laid out earlier. Plugging in and zoning out, she was soon focused on nothing but the strokes of her brush, making her painting come alive with colour.

* * *

Enjolras trudged into the kitchen on the morning before Éponine’s appointment to find her already standing there in front of the open refrigerator, dressed in fuzzy pyjama pants and one of Enjolras’ sweaters, pouting at the lack of milk, cereal, yogurt, and her beloved pickles in the fridge. “We need to go grocery shopping,” she declared upon sensing him standing in the kitchen doorway.

Enjolras walked over to her and placed a kiss on top of her head, putting his arm around her as he looked in the fridge. “I already made plans to go for coffee with ’Ferre after the appointment,” he told her apologetically, gazing down at her. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you before. Is that okay with you?”

Éponine shrugged. “Who am I to stop you from hanging out with him? Go right ahead!” she told him lightly, shutting the refrigerator door before standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll go pick up the groceries myself. It’s no problem, really.” Placing her arms around his neck, she stood on tiptoe once again to kiss him, laughing against his lips when she felt Peanut kick. “I think Peanut likes you already,” she whispered to him, pulling away and resisting the urge to beam when he smiled, pressing his hand to her swelling belly. As big as his sweater was on her, it didn’t hide her very noticeable bump, and they knew there was no way they could hide the pregnancy at this point—not that they really wanted to. Éponine watched his blue eyes widen when Peanut kicked again, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Did you feel that?” she whispered, gazing into his eyes.

“Yeah,” Enjolras breathed, his more or less indifferent expression morphing into one of complete wonder and awe as he felt his baby kicking, hardly able to breathe at the feeling. “It’s… Oh, my God, it’s just so…” He was at a loss for words, speechless as he felt Peanut continue to kick, almost as if they were responding to their father’s touch.

Éponine smiled when she saw tears of utter happiness pool in Enjolras’ bright blue eyes, saying softly, “Amazing, isn’t it? It gets kind of painful on my end, though.” She let out a laugh upon seeing the look on Enjolras’ face, reaching up to trace his jaw with her thumb. “Your spawn’s kicking up a storm in my womb, pretty boy.”

Enjolras grinned giddily and pulled her into a kiss, his lips capturing hers as her hands moved up into his hair, sighing softly as she wound her fingers into his golden curls. He couldn’t help but smile against her lips when he felt her bump coming between them, still hardly able to believe that they had made that tiny human growing inside her. Placing one hand on her bump, he felt his breath hitch once more when he felt Peanut kick for him again, and a million thoughts raced through his head as he pulled Éponine closer, deepening the kiss.

God, he loved her and Peanut so much.

When he pulled back to gaze at her, she saw that he had tears streaking his cheeks and reached up to wipe them away with her thumb, a soft laugh escaping her lips when he chuckled at his own sentiment as she wiped away his tears. His gaze falling to the curve of her stomach, he whispered, “We can’t wait for you to get here, Peanut.”

Éponine felt her lips curl into a little smile as Enjolras softly spoke to Peanut, his hands resting on her bump. “Peanut can hear us talk to them, you know,” she told him, watching his blue eyes light up at the information. “Dr. Bourrienne told me they’ll be able to respond to our voices at around twenty-six weeks.”

She couldn’t help but beam at the look of amazement on Enjolras’ face, letting out a shriek of laughter when he lifted her up and twirled her around right there in the middle of the kitchen. “Enjolras, put me down!” she cried out in between fits of laughter, breathless by the time he obliged and put her down on the cold, hard kitchen tiles. Still laughing, she stumbled over to the counter, one hand on her little bump as she sat down.

Enjolras leaned over the edge of the counter on the other side, asking tenderly, “Do you want me to make you breakfast?”

Éponine nodded, smiling as she reached across the counter to run her hands through his golden curls. “If it’s not too much trouble for you,” she replied, grinning when Enjolras’ lips curved into a smile, one of those soft tender smiles that were reserved just for her.

“Anything for you,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “What do you want?”

“Bacon,” Éponine replied instantly, giving him a sheepish smile and making him chuckle. “I want bacon. With eggs,” she added as an afterthought.

“Of course you do.” Enjolras walked around the counter to kiss the top of her head before he went to work, and soon the scent and sounds of sizzling bacon were wafting through the air and making Éponine melt as she took her phone out to find that Cosette had texted her the bridal boutique’s address sometime earlier that morning. Making a mental note to herself about the dress appointment, she got up and trudged back to her and Enjolras’ bedroom to grab her camera to take a few discreet pictures of him cooking breakfast. She had just taken the third picture when he turned, seeing her standing in the doorway with her camera in her hands.

“’Ponine, what are you doing?” he asked, a curious look on his face as he looked between her and the camera in her hands.

Éponine simply held up the three photographs in her hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she responded, giving him a coy smile and resisting the urge to laugh when he turned bright red, almost as red as his T-shirt. “It’s for Peanut! I want Peanut to have candids of all of us,” she told him, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m painting a picture for their nursery, actually. It’s turning out pretty well, if I do say so myself.” Pulling back, she looked up at him and asked, “Now, where’s my bacon?”

Enjolras chuckled and tossed the bacon in the frying pan onto a plate of eggs, handing it over to her and watching as she stuffed an entire strip of bacon in her mouth, moaning in delight at the taste. “Damn, you really make the best bacon,” she told him thickly, carrying her plate back to the kitchen counter and beginning to happily stuff her breakfast into her mouth as he poured himself a bowl of Cheerios, going back to sit beside her as they ate breakfast in comfortable silence.

“When is your appointment again?” Enjolras asked as he drank the last of the milk left in his cereal bowl.

“Half past noon,” Éponine replied absently, scrolling through the website of the bridal boutique Cosette had made an appointment at and marvelling at the array of wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses available. Looking up from her phone, she turned her head to press a kiss to his lips, smiling when she felt his lips brush hers. “By the way, you need to shave. I’m not going to lie, the stubble looks really hot, but it feels like I’m kissing sandpaper,” she deadpanned, pulling back and grinning slightly when Enjolras made a face of distaste at the analogy.

“Sure thing, _sweetheart_ ,” he responded in a monotone, mild sarcasm evident in his tone as he got up to place his bowl and spoon in the sink, soon followed by Éponine. She watched him disappear into the bathroom as he trudged down the hallway, going over to lie down on the couch with a hand resting on her bump as she stared up at the ceiling, wishing the hours could just fly by so she could go to her appointment and actually have something to _do_.

A few hours later, her wish was granted.

Éponine’s arm was linked with Enjolras’ as they filed into a train car on the subway, Enjolras managing to find a seat for Éponine like he always did despite the crowds. She had learned to just roll with it by now, since protesting was only a waste of breath and he would make her sit down anyway due to the state she was in. She kept one hand tightly intertwined with one of his as he gripped a subway handle with his other hand, and she felt reassurance upon feeling him flex the hand she was holding, squeezing his hand in response as Peanut chose that moment to kick again. She disregarded the stares her bump was earning her, telling herself that people were just curious and that it was nothing to dwell on; she may look a tad bit younger than she was, looking like she was nineteen at the most, but that wasn’t important.

The little girl sitting next to Éponine looked at her bump curiously, asking, “Are you gonna be a mommy?”

“Evelyn!” the girl sitting beside her scolded, patting the child’s arm. Éponine looked at the little girl—she had black hair in pigtails and pale skin and couldn’t have been more than four years old. Éponine stole a glance at the older girl the little girl was with, deducting that she was the girl’s sister, judging by the way she seemed rather inconvenienced by having to drag this little girl around with her. “I’m so sorry,” she apologised on behalf of Evelyn, her pale cheeks turning a rosy red colour.

“No, it’s okay,” Éponine reassured the older girl, one hand rubbing her abdomen as she told Evelyn brightly, “I am going to be a mommy, actually! And this guy up here—” She gestured up towards Enjolras, grinning playfully at how he looked like a deer caught in headlights. “He’s going to be a daddy.”

“Is it a baby boy or baby girl?” Evelyn asked, that glimmer of childlike wonder sparkling in her deep brown eyes as she looked at Éponine’s bump again and then looked up at Enjolras with a curious look in her eyes.

“It’s a surprise,” Éponine told the little girl, adding an air of mystery in the way she said it and making Evelyn giggle. Now that the attention wasn’t on him, Enjolras watched Éponine easily interact with this little girl she had met mere minutes ago with a fond look in his blue eyes, marvelling at how much of a natural she seemed to be with kids. She had practically raised her siblings, was an amazing teacher who adored her students, and it was obvious that she absolutely loved children. Despite Éponine’s countless insecurities about motherhood due to her own parentage, Enjolras had no doubt that she was going to be an amazing mother.

“Do you want to feel the baby kick?” Evelyn vigorously nodded yes, a little smile gracing her adorable little round face, and Éponine unzipped her coat just down to her hip and allowed Evelyn to place a hand on her bump. The little girl giggled when she felt Peanut kick, her little hand pressed against Éponine’s abdomen.

The train soon came to a stop and Éponine looked up as the doors slid open and people began to clamber out. “Well, this is my stop,” she told the little girl, getting up as Evelyn settled back down beside the older girl she was with. “It was nice meeting you, Evelyn!”

Éponine gave her a little wave as she exited the train, arm in arm with Enjolras, and the two of them stood on the platform and watched as the train began to move again, Evelyn’s face pressed against the window as she waved at Éponine enthusiastically until she was out of sight. Once the train was completely gone, Enjolras slid his hand into Éponine’s, squeezing it.

“You’re really good with kids,” he told her earnestly, turning to gaze down into her eyes and watching as her cheeks flushed pink. “The way you talked with that little girl earlier? You handled that really well,” he told her. Leaning in to kiss her forehead, he whispered, “You’re going to be an amazing mom, ’Ponine. I know it.”

Éponine pulled back and smiled up at him, feeling her eyes water slightly at his words. “Thanks, ’Jolras.”

 _I love you,_ she caught herself thinking, barely able to restrain herself from saying it out loud. Upon catching herself thinking it, she felt her breath hitch at how easily she had thought it; it was scary to think about how she had nearly said that to him out loud. Did she, really? She was still coming to terms with what exactly it was she felt for him, and allowing herself to think such things felt almost dangerous while she was still in one of the last stages of processing her feelings. Refusing to dwell on it any longer, she let Enjolras guide her up the stairs and out on the pavement, the two of them travelling that now-familiar path to the clinic.

After checking in and waiting a bit, Alison made a reappearance to take Éponine’s blood and weight and whatnot before she escorted her and Enjolras once again into the exam room. Their coats were slung over the backrest of a chair in the corner as Éponine rubbed her bump, letting out a tiny groan at the hard kick she received from Peanut. “Christ, Peanut, you’re killing me,” she murmured to her belly, a slight smile gracing her lips as she gazed down at her still fairly small but prominent bump, heedless of how Enjolras was gazing at her with a look of unexplainable tenderness and affection in his blue eyes. Taking her free hand in his, he laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a squeeze just as Dr. Bourrienne entered the exam room.

“Ah, Éponine, Enjolras! It’s nice to see you again,” she greeted warmly, her eyes falling to Éponine’s stomach. “I see you’ve been growing quite a bit.”

“Yeah, I have,” Éponine replied, a faint pink blush colouring her cheeks. “Peanut’s been kicking a _lot_.”

“I felt them kick this morning, actually,” Enjolras added, his lips curved into the smallest of smiles.

“Oh, that’s good!” Dr. Bourrienne seemed pleased by the news, typing it into Éponine’s file on her laptop. Sizing up the young woman perched on the edge of the exam table, Dr. Bourrienne told her, “You’re a bit small for twenty-two weeks, but it’s nothing to worry about. Like I said before, you still have a lot of growing to do.” Looking back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras, she informed them, “Babies usually start responding to sounds at around twenty-five to twenty-six weeks. By your third trimester, Éponine, your Peanut will be able to recognise your voice,” Dr. Bourrienne told her, smiling at how Éponine’s eyes lit up at the information, a huge dimpled smile gracing her lips. Turning to Enjolras, the doctor continued, “And Enjolras, if you talk to Peanut often, they’ll probably be able to recognise your voice as well.”

Once Dr. Bourrienne had drilled Éponine through the usual questions—fatigue, bleeding, dizziness, sickness, and whatnot—she handed Éponine a sheet, telling her lightly, “You know the drill, right, Éponine?”

Éponine dutifully nodded in response, unbuttoning her jeans—well, technically she was removing the hair tie she had looped around the button—and pulling her shirt up, lying down on the exam table as Enjolras stood beside her, his hand still tightly intertwined with hers. No matter how many times she had felt it before, Éponine still couldn’t help but squirm slightly at the feeling of the cold lubricating gel being spread over her abdomen with the transducer in Dr. Bourrienne’s hand, her eyes, as always, glued to the screen. She felt that same strange sense of warmth and familiarity at the grainy sight of Peanut on the screen, the little baby seeming to move around as the transducer glided over Éponine’s stomach. Once again, Peanut was sucking on their thumb, and once again, Éponine thought about how unbelievable it was that she already felt an overwhelming amount of love for the tiny human growing inside her, feeling her eyes water slightly at the image of Peanut.

Dr. Bourrienne inspected the screen with an unreadable look in her dark eyes, saying at last, “Peanut does look a bit small for a baby at this point in pregnancy, but it’s nothing to worry about. Other than that, they seem perfectly healthy.” A knowing glint in Dr. Bourrienne’s eyes, she asked with a smile on her face, “I’m assuming you’ll want pictures again?”

“Of course we do,” Éponine responded immediately, grinning back at the doctor as she wiped away some of her tears at the sight of how much Peanut had grown since the last appointment. Enjolras was completely unaware of the goofy little smile on his face as he gazed at the screen, able to see how Peanut had clearly taken the shape of a tiny baby and still hardly able to believe how he had helped make that tiny human growing inside of his girlfriend.

A little baby, half him and half Éponine.

Dr. Bourrienne handed Éponine some paper towels to clean herself up with as she went about typing in new information into Éponine’s file, and soon enough, Éponine had swung her legs over the edge of the exam table as she pulled down her shirt and looped the hair tie around the button of her jeans once again, one hand resting on her bump as she and Enjolras looked expectantly to Dr. Bourrienne, their hands clasped tight. She soon clicked her tongue in satisfaction and turned back to the couple, a warm smile on her face.

“Everything seems to be in order, Éponine!” she told her, a kind smile on her face. “If you feel like you’re having any troubles or complications, feel free to give me a call. The photographs will be available at the front desk as always. I’d like to see you again at around twenty-six weeks. How do you feel about April sixteenth at four in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good!” Éponine replied happily, hopping off the exam table and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Thanks a bunch, Dr. Bourrienne. I know I say this a lot, but I really do appreciate it.” Making her way towards the door, Enjolras in tow, she called over her shoulder, “I’ll see you April sixteenth!”

Once they had picked up the photographs and exited the clinic, Éponine turned to gaze up at Enjolras through wide, questioning brown eyes, asking him, “Do you want to go see ’Ferre now?”

“I’ll take you home first,” Enjolras told her, squeezing Éponine’s hand as she slipped the ultrasound photos into her purse. “The grocery store’s just around the corner from our apartment, isn’t it? It’s no trouble, really, ’Ponine.”

Éponine wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close into a hug, laughing when her bump came between them as he tentatively placed his own arms around her, reserved as ever about overly affectionate PDA. She grinned up at him, murmuring, “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me.”

Enjolras gave a modest smile, replying simply, “Well, I _did_ get you into this mess in the first place. It’s the least I could do.” _Anything for the girl I love,_ he caught himself thinking.

Éponine laughed, reaching up to run her fingers through his golden curls. “ _Again_ , it takes two to tango, pretty boy,” she told him in a teasing manner just as Peanut chose that exact moment to kick _really fucking hard_. Wincing slightly, she looked down accusingly at her bump. “Fuck, Peanut, that was rude.”

Enjolras had barely felt the kick and he reached to caress Éponine’s cheek, telling her candidly, “You know, if you keep swearing like that, Peanut’s first word is going to be fuck, just you wait.”

Éponine laughed again and lightly smacked his arm, having the grace to blush. “Shut up.” After a few moments of silence, she added, “Let’s go.”

After a surprisingly smooth train ride back to the apartment, Enjolras left Éponine on the icy front steps of their apartment, bidding her goodbye with a hug and a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tonight,” he told her softly, leaning in for a kiss and unable to resist a smile when she eagerly kissed him back, pulling away seconds later due to any onlookers that might be around. Éponine watched as he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, choosing that time to start walking down the block to the grocery store just around the other corner, eager to get more milk, Lucky Charms, and pickles.

 _More pickles,_ she chanted in her head as she entered the grocery store, grabbing a basket near the automatic doors as she made her way down to the dairy aisle, choosing to pick up her pickles last as she looked at the assortment of dairy products, looking for the brand she and Enjolras were most used to and more or less zoning out.

She had thought she was alone in the aisle when she heard someone draw a sharp breath several feet away from her as she picked up a carton of milk, reading through the ingredients, and she looked up at the sound, feeling her heartbeat begin to steadily quicken.

It was all she could do to keep herself from immediately turning on her heel and fleeing that godforsaken dairy aisle that had suddenly become a bit too warm for her liking as she came face to face with her mother.

Thérèse Thénardier seemed just as surprised to run into her oldest daughter at the grocery store, and Éponine thought she saw a series of mixed emotions flash across her mother’s face in the matter of seconds. If Éponine didn’t know better, she might have thought that she saw a hint of regret in her mother’s dark eyes for just a millisecond.

The two of them just stood there in silence, frozen in place as they stared at each other, Éponine catching herself hoping that this was simply a dream she would wake up from any moment now. When she blinked and saw that Thérèse was still standing in front of her, a decent amount of space between them in that dairy aisle that felt like it was closing in on them, Éponine managed to choke out, “Mom?”

“Éponine.” Thérèse looked as if she didn’t quite know what to make of the sight of her daughter, her eyes falling to Éponine’s abdomen and widening slightly when she laid eyes on the curve of her daughter’s stomach. “You’re—”

“Yeah,” Éponine interrupted awkwardly, her hand flying to rest against her abdomen by instinct as if to protect Peanut from the woman who had neglected their mother during the times she had needed her most. The jumble of thoughts racing through her mind made it impossible for her to think as she simply stared at her mother, still half-hoping this was just a dream, almost praying that this was just a dream. “Yeah, I am.”

Thérèse appeared as if she didn’t know what to make of that information, instead trying to compensate by looking Éponine up and down—the young woman’s knee-length black coat was unzipped, allowing Thérèse a full view of her obvious baby bump, and Éponine looked healthier than she had back when she was a teenager, until she had gotten into college and cut Thérèse out of her life, back before she was thrown into jail. Thérèse felt an unfamiliar pang in her heart upon seeing how much better off her daughter seemed to be without her in her life, overwhelmed by the waves of insurmountable regret that were beginning to wash over her as she thought back to all the thinking she had done while stuck in jail, thinking about how horribly she had treated Éponine and her other children. She had finally come to her senses while locked up in a prison cell, but by then, it had been too late.

Éponine swallowed, rather uncomfortable as her mother’s eyes raked over her body, almost like a vulture sizing up its prey but not quite. She was taken aback by the newfound vulnerability in her mother’s dark eyes, almost feeling sorry for Thérèse before remembering that this was the woman who had failed her. The woman who had failed to do the one thing she was obliged to do.

This was the woman who had left when her only job was to stay.

Éponine remembered it all too well—Thérèse had just sat in a corner, neglectful and uncaring, as Thénardier, in a drunken fit of rage, had screamed and hurled insults towards Éponine and Azelma, smashing liquor bottles against the walls as the sisters cowered in a corner, too frightened to even try to fight back. Her mother had turned a blind eye whenever her father shoved her around and constantly threatened her into obedience, having stood aside when Thénardier kicked Gavroche out and shouted inexcusable things to a helpless eight-year-old. Even if she rarely contributed to the physical and emotional abuse Éponine, Azelma, and Gavroche suffered at their father’s hand, Thérèse had still been a negligent, apathetic mother. Her neglect made her no better than Aldrich Thénardier.

But Éponine was beginning to have dangerously mixed feelings upon seeing the look in her mother’s eyes—she looked completely defeated, seeming resigned to the life she currently had, completely devoid of any hope. There wasn’t that sly glint in her mother’s dark eyes that had been present throughout Éponine’s childhood as she went about pickpocketing; instead, the cunning had been replaced by total resignation and fragility, and against Éponine’s will, once again she felt almost sorry for her mother.

Despite all the shit her mother had put her through, Éponine had never stopped calling her Mom.

Éponine shuffled in her place, feeling her heartbeat growing somewhat erratic as she avoided eye contact with her mother. After several more agonising moments of silence, Thérèse asked softly, obvious hesitation and what sounded like slight doubt lingering in her tone, “How have you been?”

Surprised by her mother’s question, more so by the way she said it, Éponine replied honestly, her voice barely audible, “Good. I’ve been good.” A kick from Peanut provided some comfort for Éponine, and she rubbed her bump as her mother stared at her from several feet away.

After several more moments of harrowing silence, Éponine cleared her throat in an attempt to break the awkward silence and told Thérèse quietly, “Well, I should get going.” She placed the milk carton in the basket she was carrying and started to make her way down the aisle, passing her mother and exhaling deeply once she had left the dairy aisle, on her way to the cashier.

In her haste to leave the grocery store, she forgot to pick up pickles.

* * *

When Enjolras returned home that night, he found Éponine sitting on the sofa in the living room, wearing pyjama pants and one of his hoodies as usual, a troubled look on her face as she stared blankly at the wall, which was bare except for a framed photograph of Les Amis at Disney World. Growing worried, he took off his coat before making his way over to her, sitting down beside her and leaving some space between them. “Are you okay?” he questioned tenderly, his hand finding its way into hers.

Éponine immediately scooted over to him, laying her head on his shoulder as she curled into him, gripping his hand as if it were a lifeline. “No, I’m not,” she admitted, comforted by the feeling of his lips grazing her forehead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Enjolras asked, letting go of her hand to place an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. Éponine shook her head, paused, and then nodded slowly, her free hand resting against her bump as Peanut softly kicked.

“I ran into my mom at the grocery store,” she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was… weird. Really weird. She looked like a completely different person and I almost felt sorry for her.” Letting out a little huff of frustration, she said, “I shouldn’t be sorry for her. She was a terrible mother and yet here I am, having second thoughts.” Looking up at Enjolras and seeing the concern in his blue eyes, she whispered, “I don’t want to forgive her, ’Jolras, I’m not sure if I can even if I wanted to, but the way she looked… She looked so defeated. It was like she had given up.” She had seemed like nothing but a shadow of who Thérèse Thénardier used to be. “Christ, why does everything in my life have to be so complicated?” she muttered under her breath mostly to herself as Enjolras rubbed her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

“Is everything okay, though?” he asked, his voice soft as he pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, his hand rubbing her arm.

“I guess so,” Éponine replied, her voice nearly inaudible. “I just—if my mom’s changed this much, who’s to say my dad didn’t too? That might be even worse, since he’s apparently looking for Gavroche after kicking him out nearly ten fucking years ago.” She almost hoped her father hadn’t changed; if he had, loathing him would be made so much harder, and Éponine would much rather go the rest of her life hating her father. Things would be so much simpler that way. “I’m scared, ’Jolras,” she admitted quietly, snuggling into the crook of his neck as she stared at the large framed photograph on the wall, catching herself smiling slightly at the memories the photograph brought back. “Like I said all that time ago, what if history repeats itself? Sometimes I feel like I’m cursed; what if—” Her voice cracked, unable to stand the idea of Enjolras turning out to be a horrid asshole like her own father had been. Almost immediately, she felt guilty for daring to even think about it, knowing damn well that she should have faith in him even if she had lost faith in almost everything else.

“What if what?” Enjolras asked, concern evident in his tone as he stroked her hair, occasionally stealing glances at her bump.

“I’m sorry,” Éponine blurted out without thinking, ridden with guilt after she had the absolute nerve to think Enjolras would turn out to be anything like her father had been. The thought shouldn’t have even crossed her mind, and yet it had, and she loathed herself for it. “I’m sorry for thinking you’d ever turn out like my dad, I should have more faith in you, ’Jolras, I’m sorry—”

“Hey.” She drew back when he interrupted her, gazing up into his blue eyes and being caught off-guard when he silenced her with a kiss. When he pulled back, he told her softly, “I’m not going anywhere, ’Ponine.”

Feeling slightly reassured, Éponine laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing her bump and feeling Peanut kick as she and Enjolras sat there in silence, Éponine’s eyes on the photograph on the wall across from them. After some time, Éponine murmured, “Enjolras, what if I become my mom?” Shuddering at the thought of it, she babbled, “What if I become apathetic, what if I—what if—” She choked on a sob at the thought of subjecting her Peanut to what she herself had gone through. Her child didn’t deserve that. No child ever deserved that.

“Éponine, listen to me.” Éponine looked up at Enjolras, dark eyes wide with surprise as they found his piercing blue. Enjolras reached with his other hand for hers, squeezing her hand as he said, “How many times have I told you before? _You are not your parents_ , ’Ponine. Don’t think for a second that you’ll become anything like them.” His tone of voice was firm as he told her, “You’re a million times better than they’ll ever be, and you have more love to give in your pinky than they do in their entire bodies. I have no doubt that you’ll be an amazing mom. I’ve seen how good you are with kids—you were great at handling that little girl on the subway earlier, and I’ve seen how much your students love you. ’Ponine, you’re going to be a _fantastic_ mother.

“Truth be told, I’m in awe of you. In twenty-four years, I’ve never met anyone who would have been able to handle what you and your siblings went through as well as you three did. Like I’ve said before, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” Leaning in to kiss her forehead, he whispered, “ _Don’t doubt yourself._ ”

Éponine felt tears well up in her eyes at his words, looking up to lean in and press her lips to his in a tender kiss, trying to convey everything that couldn’t be said in words in the movement of her lips against his, in the way she moved her hand up into his hair, in the soft moan of his name that fell from her lips as she moved to straddle him, delicately cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him, full of fire and passion and utter _love_ , shivering slightly at the feeling of his hands moving up and down her back. Once she felt like she was unable to breathe any longer, the two of them broke apart, Éponine panting slightly as she gazed into his blue eyes, his face cradled in her hands.

“You want to take this to the bedroom?” Enjolras asked, his voice rather hoarse as he gazed up at her with a look of sheer adoration in his eyes. Éponine let out a breathless laugh and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Enjolras shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he cautiously made his way through the throngs of students around Gavroche’s school, stepping through the quickly melting slush as the sun shone down upon the city. It was a surprisingly warm day for late March, though the streets were still rather slick with ice and the cars on the street were creeping along extra carefully that day. Enjolras towered above most of the students milling about, making it easier for him to search for Gavroche in the crowds. Earlier that day, he had stopped by Éponine’s school to bid her goodbye before she left for the boutique Cosette had made an appointment at, and he had immediately gone to Gavroche’s school to pick him up once he and Éponine had parted ways. Rounding a corner to a less crowded area of the school zone, he found Gavroche standing in front of three other boys, seeming to be involved in a heated argument with them, if the way Gavroche had balled up his fists at his side was any indication.

As Enjolras walked closer to them, he caught fragments of their argument, hearing one of the other boys tell Gavroche icily, “Your sister’s a whore.”

Out of all the things he had expected—although honestly, Enjolras had no idea _what_ he had expected—to hear, that was the last thing that crossed his mind, and he clenched his fists upon hearing them call his girlfriend a whore. She was a grown-ass woman and she could damn well make her own decisions, and she wasn’t going to be slandered by a group of idiotic teenage boys. Nevertheless, he knew better than to jump in just like that, keeping some distance between him and Gavroche and the boys as they argued.

“Why the _fuck_ do you care if she’s pregnant?” Gavroche asked, unrestrained fury in his voice. “I’ll have you know she’s twenty-three. She’s turning twenty-four in just a few days, actually. She’s a fucking adult. It was her decision to keep her baby, and quite frankly, I don’t see how the hell that’s any of your business. Slut-shaming is getting old, _Julian_.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she couldn’t keep her legs closed,” another of the boys shot back, venom lacing his tone. “She could have used protection, you know. She did realise that getting pregnant that young would end up with people talking behind her back no matter what, right? We can say whatever we want to goddamn say.”

Gavroche, fire in his blue eyes, moved as if to punch him and Enjolras immediately jumped in, refusing to let him do anything he might come to regret later on.

“What’s going on?” he asked, directing the question towards Gavroche as the three boys fell silent at the sight of an uptight-looking man joining in the conversation.

“Who the fuck are _you_?” the third boy asked rudely, shoving Enjolras aside.

“I happen to be his sister’s boyfriend and the father of her baby,” Enjolras responded evenly, fixing the boy with a stony glare and resisting a smirk of satisfaction when he recoiled. “Gavroche is right. Slut-shaming really is getting old. She’s an adult and she can make her own decisions.”

“Whatever, this doesn’t involve you,” another of the boys told him, coarse and boorish as he forcefully pushed Enjolras aside. Stepping back on an icy patch near the curb, Enjolras lost his footing and slipped, falling on his back on the narrow street. Gavroche turned, his blue eyes widening in horror upon seeing Enjolras trying to stand up on the icy pavements.

Enjolras had just gotten to his feet when he felt something collide with his side, and the next thing he felt was pain.

 _Excruciating_ pain.

Losing his footing once again, he tried to brace himself for the fall and wound up hitting his head on the concrete, faintly hearing Gavroche yelling and looking up, the teenage boy going in and out of focus as he rushed to Enjolras’ side. What was going on? Looking to the pavement, he saw the blurry outlines of the three boys running off, too cowardly to face the consequences of their actions, and the next thing Enjolras saw was another man, a complete stranger, coming to his side, a stream of curses and profuse apologies falling from his lips as Gavroche pulled his phone out, a look of horror in his blue eyes. All Enjolras could focus on was the sharp, numbing pain in his left leg, biting down hard on his lip to keep himself from crying out. With a shaking hand, he reached up, feeling a wet patch in his hair and pulling down his hand, mildly horrified at the sight of blood on his fingertips.

“Enjolras.” Gavroche peered at him through watering blue eyes, having called an ambulance at the sight of how Enjolras’ left leg was bent in a way it shouldn’t be able to bend, trying desperately to keep a cool head as he glimpsed the blood in Enjolras’ golden hair. “Enjolras, can you hear me?”

It took all that was left of Enjolras’ strength to nod feebly, Gavroche seeming to go in and out of focus. His blue eyes darting around, Enjolras thought he saw that a small crowd had gathered around the scene, hearing gasps from the people upon seeing him on the ground.

“I called an ambulance, Enjolras,” Gavroche told him, biting down on his lip as tears streamed down his face. “You’ll be okay. Hold on.”

“Fuck,” the man on his knees beside Gavroche cursed under his breath. “Sir, I’m so sorry, I—”

“It’s—it’s okay,” Enjolras managed to croak out, cracking a smile despite it all. A quick upwards glance informed him that he had been hit by a car, and he inferred that this strange man had been the driver. Perhaps he had hit an icy patch? “The roads are slippery, after all.”

His vision was growing dimmer by the moment as Enjolras felt himself slipping away, unable to keep himself awake. “Gavroche,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as the boy leaned in to hear him better. “Call—call ’Ponine—please—”

“I will,” Gavroche promised, cursing under his breath as Enjolras struggled to keep his eyes open. _Enjolras, please be okay,_ the boy desperately thought, watching as Enjolras’ blue eyes seemed to become emptier by the moment.

The last thing Enjolras saw was a paramedic bending down beside Gavroche before everything faded into black.

* * *

“ _Fuck!_ ” Gavroche swore loudly, earning himself dirty looks from the little crowd the accident had attracted, as the paramedics finally arrived, the ambulance parked at the side of the street, watching as the paramedics lifted Enjolras’ unconscious body onto a stretcher. Gavroche followed them into the ambulance, taking a seat and trying not to feel sickened by the unnatural way Enjolras’ leg was bent.

It was his fault. He never should have gotten into that fight with those asshole boys from the football team after they insulted Éponine, having seen her around school during the times she picked Gavroche up. He never should have gotten into that fight; Enjolras had jumped in just before Gavroche could punch one of those boys in the face, and Gavroche realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he had been trying to prevent him from doing something he might regret later on. If the fight had never happened, Enjolras never would have been pushed out into the street and hit by a car, resulting in _this_.

How was Éponine going to react?

Leaning over, Gavroche asked one of the paramedics anxiously, “Is he going to be okay?”

“He broke his leg, from the looks of it,” the paramedic replied grimly, looking at Enjolras’ unconscious form on the stretcher. “He might have suffered some damage to the head. It looks like he’ll be okay, though. He doesn’t seem to have suffered anything too severe,” the paramedic added on a lighter note, giving Gavroche some hope as he took his phone out to call Éponine.

Holding his phone up to his ear, Gavroche felt tears stinging his eyes as he muttered under his breath, “Éponine, please pick up.”


	13. Chapter XIII

“Eppy, I’m not trying to sound too cliché or anything, but I swear, you’re glowing,” Cosette gushed as Éponine, Musichetta, and Azelma took a seat on one of the plush sofas in the boutique while the consultant, Natasha, patiently stood aside, waiting for Cosette to finish conversing with the other women. “You look _stunning_.”

Éponine grinned back at Cosette, rubbing her bump and laughing when Peanut kicked. “Thanks, Cosette, but how the hell am I supposed to fit into a bridesmaid dress now?”

“If you don’t mind me interrupting, ma’am, I think a dress with an empire waist would be perfect for her,” Natasha piped up from beside Cosette. The blonde’s blue eyes lit up at the consultant’s suggestion, and she began to bounce on the balls of her feet, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! That sounds perfect,” Cosette squealed, sidling over to take Éponine’s hands in hers and pull her to her feet. “Chetta, Zelma, how do you feel about empire dresses?”

Azelma shrugged. “I’m cool with anything, really, as long as it looks good.”

“Same here,” Musichetta agreed, grinning at Cosette from her spot on the sofa.

“Would you like to look for bridesmaid dresses first or do you want to look for your wedding dress first?” Natasha questioned as Cosette turned to her, a look of utter happiness and excitement on her heart-shaped face.

“I suppose we could go look for bridesmaid dresses first,” Cosette told Natasha brightly. “I was thinking of something pastel pink, and of course with empire waistlines to accommodate Eppy’s little one,” Cosette added, her voice lowering to a whisper as she put an arm around Éponine’s waist and pulled her close. Éponine turned pink when Natasha gave her a warm smile, her chocolate brown eyes travelling down to her bump in interest.

“Congratulations,” Natasha told her sincerely. “How far along are you?”

“I’m almost at twenty-three weeks,” Éponine replied, smiling back at Natasha and trying not to seem too flustered by the consultant’s unexpected words. She felt an odd sort of relief when Natasha turned her attention back to Cosette, going back to sit by Azelma and Musichetta as Cosette and Natasha discussed the exact kind of dress Cosette wanted, Natasha adding her own two cents every now and then. Resting a hand against her bump, Éponine let out a tiny groan when Peanut gave a particularly hard kick, catching Azelma and Musichetta’s attention.

“You okay there?” Musichetta questioned curiously, giving Éponine a look as Azelma did the same.

“Peanut kicks _hard_ ,” Éponine replied, laughing softly to herself when Peanut kicked once again as if to prove their mother’s point. “’Jolras was able to feel it last appointment, actually. Do you want to feel?”

“Hell yeah!” Azelma immediately pressed a hand to her sister’s bump, hazel eyes widening in awe when she felt something hit her hand. “Holy shit,” she murmured softly, hardly able to believe what she was feeling. There was a little baby growing inside of her sister, a baby who shared her blood, and Azelma questioned, “What’s the gender-neutral term for niece or nephew?”

“I believe the proper term is ‘nibling’,” Éponine replied, snorting at the way the word sounded. She decided that she liked how it sounded, smiling when Azelma laughed at the new information.

“I want to feel them kick too,” Musichetta interjected, placing a hand on Éponine’s bump and letting out a little gasp of surprise when she felt Peanut kick. “Oh, wow,” she murmured in surprise, unaccustomed the the strange feeling. “That’s new.”

Éponine grinned, telling Musichetta and Azelma, “At this rate, I’m going to have to put them on a soccer team one day. They’re kicking me to pieces.”

“Oh!” The three women looked up at the sound of Cosette’s silvery voice. The blonde had a hopeful look in her big blue eyes, asking, “Can I feel it?”

“Go right ahead,” Éponine replied, gesturing to her bump as Azelma and Musichetta pulled their hands away to give Cosette some space. The blonde knelt down before Éponine, her eyes widening when she felt Peanut kicking, a hysterical-sounding giggle escaping her plump lips.

“Oh, wow,” Cosette murmured softly, awed by the strange sensation. Éponine smiled at the look of wonder on Cosette’s face, feeling her cheeks flush from the feeling of all the other women’s eyes on her bump.

After some time, Natasha cleared her throat behind Cosette, asking Éponine, Azelma, and Musichetta, “Would you like to try on your dresses now?”

Standing up, Éponine saw about a dozen dresses laid out neatly on another of the sofas, all in varying shades of pastel pink. Tentatively making her way over to them, her eyes raked over the different dresses, mild interest in her dark eyes as she picked out the ones she liked best. When they had arrived, all four of the women had given Natasha their sizes so she wouldn’t have to measure each of them separately before searching for dresses.

“Cosette decided on four different styles of dresses,” Natasha explained as Azelma delicately picked one of the dresses up, looking at it in interest. “I laid them out for the three of you. Which ones would you like to try on first?”

Éponine, Azelma, and Musichetta immediately pointed towards three identical pale pink dresses, evoking a laugh from Natasha. “Well, go on, try them on.”

Natasha led the three of them to a row of dressing rooms, each of them finding separate vacant stalls, and soon enough, Éponine was alone in a little dressing room, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Stripping down to her underwear, she stood there for several moments after putting her hair up in a messy bun, just staring at herself in the mirror and getting a good look at her bump. Over the course of the past few weeks, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to bend over, and she just stood there, looking curiously at the faint line beneath her belly button, just a few shades darker than her olive skin. The fact that she was pregnant was glaringly obvious now, and she stood there, her brow furrowed as she looked herself up and down in the mirror, unsure of what to think.

Trying not to overthink it as she tended to do with other things, she managed to get the dress on, somehow managing to zip it up herself and inspecting herself in the mirror.

It was a strapless floor-length gown, with a flowing chiffon skirt, a beaded bodice, and a sweetheart neckline, a thin silver belt around the waistline, which rested comfortably above Éponine’s bump. Surprisingly, she liked the pastel pink colour, doing a complete 360 and trying to see what it looked like from the back. After some time, she just stood there for several more moments, frowning at how her breasts seemed to be bursting out of the dress  before exiting the dressing room to find that Azelma and Musichetta had come out in their dresses as well, seeming as if they had mixed feelings about the dresses. Natasha stood up once the three of them had approached her and Cosette, questioning anxiously, “Do you like these ones?”

Azelma pursed her lips, finding that the dress wasn’t quite her style. Cosette seemed to agree, furrowing her brow as a saddened look flitted across her face for a mere millisecond before she regained her composure.

“I think one of the other ones would be better,” Musichetta finally replied, her tone gentle. Natasha nodded in understanding, handing another of the dresses to Musichetta before doing the same with Azelma and Éponine.

Éponine found that she liked this dress much better—it was an empire gown in a slightly different shade of pastel pink, paler and much simpler than the last dress, and she loved the cap sleeves of the dress; she gathered a portion of the floor-length chiffon skirt in her hand, swishing the skirt about, and she immediately fell in love with the dress. Leaving the dressing room, her clothes gathered in her arms, she did another 360 for Cosette, a hopeful look in her dark eyes as they found Cosette’s blue. Cosette nodded approvingly as Musichetta exited her dressing room, soon followed by Azelma making a reappearance, and Cosette stood up to walk over to them, sizing them up and clapping her hands together.

“Yes!” she cried out happily, bouncing up and down in excitement as she gave an approving nod. “We’ll take these dresses.”

“Absolutely,” Natasha replied warmly, taking the other dresses to put them back up on display.

Cosette pulled her phone out, asking the three women, “Would you mind if I took a picture? Just to show Marius. Can all three of you stand together, please?”

Éponine, Azelma, and Musichetta did as they were told, grinning at the camera; Cosette managed to capture the moment Éponine laughed when Peanut kicked, barely able to resist a squeal of excitement once she had placed her phone back in her purse, turning to Natasha once the consultant returned. The both of them exchanged a few words, seeming to discuss what kind of dress Cosette had in mind, before they went off, presumably on a hunt for the perfect dress as Éponine, Azelma, and Musichetta sat back down, waiting patiently for them to return.

Time seemed to drag on as Cosette tried on a dress, rather unsatisfied by how it looked and immediately going off on a search for another one, and Éponine felt as if she was dozing off when she felt vibrations coming from her purse. Curious, Éponine opened her purse to find her phone screen lighting up, reaching in to fish it out, shocked to find that Gavroche was calling her. Immediately picking up, she held the phone up to her ear. “Gavroche?”

 _“Éponine, thank fuck!”_ Gavroche cursed at the other end of the line. Éponine could hear the faint sounds of other, unfamiliar voices in the background, her heart beginning to pound in her chest at the anguish in Gavroche’s voice. _“I’ve tried to call you four times now!”_

“Gav, what happened?” she asked urgently, trying to calm her racing heart. “Where are you?”

 _“I’m in an ambulance, we’re just arriving at the hospital,”_ Gavroche replied. _“Enjolras—he got hurt—something happened and he got hit by a car—”_

“ _What?!_ ” Éponine shot up to her feet, feeling as if her lungs were constricting. Musichetta and Azelma looked up in alarm, their eyes wide as Éponine began to pace back and forth, breathing heavily. Finding it difficult to breathe all of a sudden, Éponine desperately tried to calm her frantically beating heart, wishing she could assure herself that everything would be okay, her hand resting on her bump. Feeling that frighteningly familiar sting of tears in her eyes, she asked shakily, “Gavroche, what happened?”

 _“I was arguing with these boys after they called you a whore when Enjolras showed up to pick me up and I was about to punch one of those boys in the face when he jumped in to stop me and then they pushed him and I guess he slipped on some ice because the next thing I knew, he was in the middle of the street and he had just gotten up when a car hit him,”_ Gavroche responded rapidly all in one breath as if he was fearful that Éponine would get angry at him for being in a fight in the first place. _“I guess the road was icy. The paramedics told me he broke his leg. They say he’s going to be all right, but he’s in bad shape right now. I’ve called Combeferre and he said he’s going to call the others and we’re all going to meet at the hospital. Éponine, hurry,”_ Gavroche pleaded, seeming to grow more frantic by the moment. _“One of the last things Enjolras asked me to do before he passed out was to call you. He_ needs _you there with him, Éponine.”_

Her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob, Éponine replied in a trembling voice, “I’ll get there as soon as I can. I’ll leave right now.”

 _“Hurry, Ep,”_ Gavroche told her, giving her the hospital address before he hung up, leaving Éponine to stand there in the middle of the boutique in shock, placing her phone back in her purse as she turned around, her eyes wildly searching for Cosette, who had just exited a dressing room back in her regular clothes.

“Cosette, I’m sorry, but we have to leave,” Éponine told her, her tone urgent as she rushed over to the blonde. “Like, right now.”

Cosette’s brow furrowed in confusion, asking, “Eppy, what happened?”

“’Jolras is hurt,” Éponine replied, feeling tears beginning to run down her face and reaching up to wipe them away with the sleeve of her sweater. “Gav just called me. He got hit by a car and he broke his leg, and maybe worse. Cosette, I’m so sorry, but we _have_ to go. Right now.”

Cosette nodded in understanding, biting down on her lip out of worry as she went over to Natasha, telling her apologetically, “I’m so sorry, Natasha, but I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule. Something came up and it’s urgent.”

Natasha looked back at Cosette in bewilderment, asking her rather timidly, “What happened?”

“Éponine’s boyfriend—the father of her baby—he was in a car accident,” Cosette explained, looking back to find that Musichetta and Azelma were hastily gathering their things as Éponine stood there, already in her coat and trying to fight back tears. Natasha’s eyes widened in horror and she nodded, sympathetic.

“Well, then, go,” the consultant told Cosette, handing the blonde her purse once she had pulled on her coat. “When you can, just text me later so we can reschedule.”

“Thank you so much, Natasha,” Cosette told her gratefully, reaching for the consultant’s hand and squeezing it. “Again, I’m so, so, so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It’s okay, really,” Natasha assured Cosette. “Go with Éponine. She looks like she’s going to faint.”

Whirling around, Cosette saw that Natasha was right, her blue eyes widening as Éponine pressed a hand to her chest, seeming as if she was struggling to breathe. Without further ado, Cosette marched over to the brunette and ushered her out of the boutique, Azelma and Musichetta on their heels as they nearly broke into a run on their way to the subway station.

“Éponine, please calm down!” Cosette cried out tearfully as Éponine burst into hysterical tears, attracting odd looks from passersby as they went down the stairs and onto the platform. The train couldn’t come soon enough. “All this stress can’t be good for the baby!”

Cosette flinched when Éponine looked up to glare at her through red-rimmed eyes, snapping back, “I’m sorry, but you weren’t the one whose boyfriend got hit by a fucking car, so with all due respect, Cosette, shut the _fuck_ up.”

As the train finally came, Cosette told herself that Éponine was simply in shock and was lashing out, knowing that she wouldn’t normally say such biting words. Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma dragged Éponine into the train, finding her a seat and forcing her into it. Éponine pressed a hand against her racing heart, unable to keep all the terrible thoughts from running through her head as she immediately jumped to conclusions, imagining the worst-case scenario and crying even harder at the thought of losing Enjolras. At this point, she couldn’t give less fucks about whether or not people were staring at her, letting herself shake with uncontrollable sobs as she caressed her bump, looking to Peanut for reassurance and feeling the slightest bit of comfort when they kicked.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time the train finally screeched to a stop at their stop, Éponine immediately getting to her feet and ignoring how light-headed she felt because of it as she, Cosette, Azelma, and Musichetta exited the train, Éponine taking the steps two at a time despite the other women’s warnings, breaking into a jog once she was on the pavement and ignoring the others’ worried shouts as they chased after her. Everything around her felt too bright, too cheerful for her liking—the sun was shining down upon the city, people happily conversing and the smell of hot dogs wafting through the air as pigeons flew about from tree to tree, almost as if they were all mocking Éponine in her state of panic. She felt as if her senses had been heightened, feeling the stinging cold and bright sunshine on her skin, sighting all the colours and faces around her and growing overwhelmed, smelling the putrid smells from an alleyway she rushed by and immediately feeling as if she was about to hurl, tasting vomit in her mouth as she rushed over to the nearest trash can and gripped the edges, finally throwing up.

“Éponine!” Azelma shrieked as she rushed over to her sister, pulling her dark hair back as Éponine vomited into the trash can, tears leaking out of her eyes at the sharp, rancid smell that hit her nose. She choked on a sob as she threw up, wondering what the hell she had done in her life to deserve all this shit that had happened and was happening to her, vaguely feeling Musichetta’s hand rubbing her back as she emptied her stomach of that afternoon’s lunch. When she was standing up straight once again, she continued to jog towards the hospital until Azelma forced her into a walk, not wanting anything to happen to her sister and Peanut.

Once the hospital finally came into view, Éponine wrestled her arm out of Azelma’s iron grip and took off running, nearly crashing into Combeferre outside of the entrance to the emergency room. “Combeferre!” she exclaimed in surprise, looking up at him through wide, frightened brown eyes to find that he was near tears. “What’s going on?” she asked urgently, tears brimming in her eyes as she grabbed his arms, clinging to them for dear life as she shook him slightly. “Where’s everybody?”

“Everyone else is inside, they’re in the waiting room. They sent me outside to wait for you four,” Combeferre replied, placing his hands on Éponine’s shoulders and trying desperately to subdue her. “Éponine, please calm down. Stressing yourself out like this isn’t good for Peanut. I know Enjolras wouldn’t want you to get this worked up.” Taking her arm, he guided her inside to the waiting room, the other three women closely behind them.

Everyone looked up upon seeing Éponine enter, Cosette immediately rushing into Marius’ arms as Musichetta went over to occupy the vacant seat Bossuet and Joly had left between them. Azelma went over to stand by Gavroche’s seat rather awkwardly as Éponine looked around through wild dark eyes, looking as if she was about to faint and feeling light-headed. Pressing a hand to her bump, she began to pace back and forth, ignoring her increasing dizziness and having an internal meltdown.

“Eppy, I think you should sit down,” Jehan called out rather timidly, causing Éponine to stop in her tracks and glare at him. She was just about to shoot back with a cutting retort when she felt her knees buckle, nearly losing her footing from how faint she felt, and she begrudgingly did as Jehan suggested, taking a seat in the vacant chair next to Grantaire. Unable to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes, she let herself sob, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs, not wishing to earn looks of pity from the others. Beside her, Grantaire scooted closer and pulled her into a hug, letting her sob her eyes out into his shoulder as she flung her arms around him, clinging to him for dear life as jumbled thoughts raced through her head.

“Is he—is ’Jolras—is he going to be okay?” she managed to choke out, pulling back to look at Grantaire through red-rimmed eyes.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire replied quietly, unusually subdued, making her cry even harder as she buried her face in his shoulder once again, shaking with sobs.

Whenever she was in her highest spirits, life always seemed to find a way to bring her down, serving as a painful reminder of the fact that despite her newfound happiness, the struggles and difficulties she had faced in the past would come back to haunt her whenever she least expected it. She was still rather shaken from her encounter with her mother from five days ago, wishing she could just hate her mother like she had always done, but of course it could never be that easy. Of _course_ her mother had to change as a person while behind bars, of _course_ she had to change only after Éponine decided that she was as good as dead to her and cut her out of her life; words couldn’t describe how much she loathed the idea of her mother becoming a part of her life again, regardless of whether she had changed for the better or not. If her mother had been able to change, what would her father be like when she almost inevitably encountered him again?

Combeferre noticed how a doctor seemed to be beckoning him over and went over to her, exchanging a few words with her and letting out a sigh of relief when she told him the news. “He’s going to be okay,” he repeated after the doctor, giving her a watery smile when she nodded.

“He’s a little banged up,” she told him. “He broke his leg and suffered a bit of bleeding from the head, but he doesn’t seem to have suffered anything too severe and won’t be requiring surgery. He’ll need to take it easy for the next several weeks, though, to let his leg heal. It was only a minor fracture; it shouldn’t take any longer than six or seven weeks for his leg to heal.” The doctor gave Combeferre a smile, telling him, “You’ll be able to see him soon.”

“How soon is that?” Combeferre questioned, looking back at Éponine, who was still crying in Grantaire’s arms. “His girlfriend’s in hysterics. She’ll want to see him as soon as she can.”

The doctor’s eyes followed Combeferre’s gaze and widened slightly as her mouth formed a small ‘O’ upon catching sight of Éponine’s bump. “Is she…?”

Combeferre gave the doctor a wan smile. “Yes, she is,” he confirmed softly. “It’s his baby.”

“We’ll try to get him all patched up as quickly as we can,” the doctor told him. “You’ll be able to see him in an hour or so, maybe a little over an hour, two hours at the most.”

Combeferre breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the weight being lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you so much, Doctor,” he told her gratefully, going back to lightly tap Éponine on the shoulder. She looked up, tears streaking her cheeks as her eyes found Combeferre’s.

“Enjolras is going to be okay,” he told her, his voice soft. “The doctor said he’s going to be okay. She said you’ll be able to see him in an hour or so.”

Éponine’s face lit up and she smiled through the tears, letting out a choked laugh garbled by a sob as she got to her feet to throw her arms around Combeferre, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and nearly knocking the wind out of him. For someone so small, she was surprisingly strong, almost squeezing the breath out of him as he hugged her back. Once she had pulled back after mumbling incomprehensible words into his coat, she grinned up at him, her eyes still rather glassy as she looked around at the others, her brow furrowing in suspicion when she saw that Courfeyrac and Azelma were absent from the waiting room. Combeferre went over to them to tell them the relieving news, Éponine standing in place and stealing glances over her shoulder at the doctors speaking in hushed voices in front of the door to the room she assumed Enjolras was in. Feeling that same burst of dizziness once again, she went over to sit back down beside Grantaire, a hand resting against her bump.

“He’s okay,” she whispered to Peanut, her voice practically inaudible to anyone besides Grantaire. He stole a sideways glance at her, seeing how she let out a quiet, hysterical laugh as she rubbed her stomach, whispering, “Your daddy’s okay, Peanut. Everything’s going to be okay. Your daddy will be fine.” She let out a relieved sigh, sniffling slightly and feeling a single tear run down her cheek as she eagerly waited for when she would be able to see Enjolras again.

Two hours felt like a lifetime to Éponine, passing her time by fidgeting with anything tiny she could get her hands on and talking to Peanut under her breath, but then a doctor was approaching her with a kind smile on her face and telling her gently, “You can see him now, if you want to. He’s asleep; we expect he’ll be waking up soon.”

Éponine immediately got to her feet, following the doctor into the room they had placed Enjolras in as everyone else stared after her. Combeferre had been considering going in with her before stopping himself, thinking that she needed some space and time to be alone with Enjolras.

Éponine’s breath caught in her throat when she saw Enjolras lying asleep on the hospital bed, his lower left leg in a cast, a fairly nasty scratch on one side of his forehead partially obscured by his golden curls. Despite it all, she was thankful to see that he didn’t look like he was in pain, his face looking less lined than it usually was as he peacefully slept. A brief glance to the side showed her that the doctors had placed his coat and suit jacket on the back of a chair in the corner leaving him dressed in those stupid tailored pants of his and a white button-up shirt, his shoulder stained with the tiniest bit of blood.

Tentatively sitting down at the edge of the bed near his hip, she took his large hand in her small one, lacing her fingers through his and smiling through the tears when she felt him stir just slightly, his fingers curling around her palm as hers did the same with his, and she brought his hand to her lips to press a soft kiss to his knuckles just as his exhausted blue eyes slowly blinked open.

The first thing Enjolras saw was a teary-eyed Éponine sitting on the edge of the bed, and once he had made sense of his surroundings and concluded that he was in a hospital, he attempted to prop himself up against the headboard before he abruptly stopped, wincing at the sharp pain that went shooting through his left leg and looking down to find that his leg was in a cast. He barely remembered anything after he had been pushed out onto the street by those boys Gavroche had been fighting with, vaguely recalling Gavroche’s face above him and a car and blood on his fingers.

“You’re here” were the first words that came spilling out of his mouth as he gazed up at Éponine through clouded, mildly disoriented blue eyes, evoking a strangled, teary laugh from her. Forgetting about the pain in his leg, all he could focus on was the fact that she was here with him, and for a fleeting, wonderful moment, nothing else mattered as she pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiled at the sight of him awake.

“I was so scared, ’Jolras,” she murmured quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I thought—I thought you were—” Her voice broke on the last word and silent tears began to stream down her face as Enjolras managed to prop himself up against the headboard, disregarding the pain in his leg. As she scooted closer to him, he reached out with his other hand to tenderly cup her jaw, softly caressing her cheek. She looked down into her lap and laughed rather hysterically to herself, thinking about how ridiculous it seemed now that she had been tearing herself up over this.

“What happened?” Enjolras asked her, his voice rather raspy. The last thing he remembered was losing consciousness when someone he assumed had been a paramedic suddenly appeared at Gavroche’s side, presumably to take him to the hospital he seemed to be in right now.

“You were in an accident,” Éponine told him softly, her thumb rubbing circles into his palm as his had done with hers so many times before. “Gavroche said you slipped on the curb and fell onto the street, and then a car hit you. He said the road must have been icy, maybe the driver slipped on a patch of ice and ended up hitting you. As you can see, you broke your leg,” she informed him, gesturing to the cast on his left leg and giggling at the mildly amused look he gave her.

Her lips curving into a soft smile that melted Enjolras’ heart, she whispered, “It’s okay now. You’re safe and alive and God, I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.” Her voice came out strangled towards the end of her sentence and she began to silently cry again at the thought of how lost she would be if she had lost him, the man she loved, prompting Enjolras to gently stroke her cheek and quietly shush her. Cracking a smile through her tears, she murmured, “It’s my fault. I should’ve gone to pick up Gav like I usually do instead of making you do it.”

“’Ponine, it’s not your fault,” Enjolras told her, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s nobody’s fault, not really. Life just happens sometimes.” Looking down at his leg once again, he made a face and asked, “When do you think my leg will be better?”

“’Ferre told me that the doctor said it should be healed in six to eight weeks or so, maybe a bit longer than that,” Éponine replied. Managing a watery laugh, she told him playfully, “We better not find ourselves in a hospital again until it’s time for Peanut here to arrive.”

Enjolras smiled and pulled her face closer to his, his thumb tracing her jawline as their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, just the two of them alone in the hospital room. Éponine felt fire coursing through her veins as he kissed her, gentle and certain and promising that more was to come, and she shivered at the goosebumps that erupted along her skin as his lips moved against hers, parting her own lips to allow his tongue to delve deeper. She was beginning to slip away, losing herself in the kiss when they heard the creak of an opening door and abruptly broke apart, seeing that another of the doctors, a red-faced young thing, had entered the room.

“Oh!” She seemed flustered upon catching them in such a way, blushing fiercely in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I was interrupting a moment, I’ll just—I’ll show myself out now—” She hurried out the door, nearly crashing into the doorframe on her way out, and behind her, Éponine raised her free hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. Looking down at her bump, she smiled to herself as Peanut kicked once again, apparently also glad that their daddy was okay.

“You want to feel them kick?” Éponine asked softly, smiling at how Enjolras’ blue eyes lit up and he nodded, reaching out to press his hand against her bump and unable to resist a smile at the feeling of Peanut kicking. He still found it absolutely amazing that Éponine had a tiny life inside of her, a tiny human that shared his traits as well as hers, and once again he found his mind drifting off to thoughts of what their Peanut would look like.

“I hope they look like you,” he heard Éponine say, prompting him to look up. “I hope they’ll be like you.”

“No, I hope they’ll be more like you,” Enjolras contradicted gently, practically able to feel himself falling even more in love with her as she gave him a shy little dimpled smile.

“And why is that?” Éponine questioned, reaching out to boop his nose and laughing at the look on his face.

“Because you’re perfect, ’Ponine,” Enjolras replied, earnest as ever, smiling at how her olive skin turned a bright shade of red. She looked down, trying hard not to smile at his words.

“Damn, you know just how to make me blush, don’t you?” she muttered rather snarkily, looking up to grin at him and leaning in for another kiss, the world around them melting away as her lips found his. Enjolras readily kissed her back, sighing contentedly against her lips and momentarily forgetting about the fact that he had a broken leg as he kissed her, tender and loving and just grateful for the fact that she was there with him.

Once they had broken apart, he looked down and frowned at his cast, asking, “When do you think I’ll be able to leave the hospital?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to soon,” Éponine assured him, rubbing his palm with her thumb. “You’ll probably have to use crutches for some time, though. I can only imagine how much of a nightmare that will be.” It was going to prove to be extremely difficult to navigate New York City with a pair of crutches, and Éponine hoped she would never have to go through that herself.

Enjolras winced at the thought, making a face as he looked at his cast once again before resisting the sudden urge to groan when he thought about how Courfeyrac was most definitely going to be drawing a dick on his cast with a Sharpie soon enough. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too noticeable; it certainly wouldn’t stand well with his boss. Those thoughts exiting his mind, he turned back to Éponine, simply smiling as he gazed at her with a thoughtful look in his blue eyes, his hand resting on her bump and feeling Peanut’s soft kicks.

Éponine reached down with much difficulty to unzip her boots, kicking them off to swing her legs up onto the bed as Enjolras scooted over with a curious look on his face. “‘Ponine, might I remind you that we’re in a hospital,” he reminded her quietly as she snuggled up to him, resting one hand on her stomach.

“So? I’m tired,” she replied, letting out a yawn. “It’s been a—been a crazy day. Growing a baby is _exhausting_ , you know,” she told him, flicking him in the arm. “I just… I just want a nap…” And then she was out, snoring softly, her head against Enjolras’ shoulder. All he could do was look between her and the door before resigning himself to it, looking rather helpless by the time the doctor Combeferre had spoken to earlier came in about twenty minutes later. She furrowed her brow in bewilderment at the sight of Éponine asleep on Enjolras’ shoulder, one hand resting against her stomach and the other intertwined with Enjolras’.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras apologised on Éponine’s behalf. “She’s just—she’s been through a lot today. She’s just tired, what with being pregnant and all…” He trailed off, rather flustered as the doctor’s eyes raked over the both of them, observing them together on the bed.

“You two will have a beautiful baby,” the doctor told him, her tone sincere as she walked over with a pair of crutches in her arms. “Do you want to get used to them before you go home?”

“I might as well,” Enjolras replied, gently nudging Éponine awake. She stirred with a soft moan of mild inconvenience, her brown eyes blinking open and her bottom lip jutting out slightly as she looked up at him with a pout. He leaned in to kiss her forehead in an attempt to make her feel more awake than she currently was, and judging by how her pout transformed into the smallest of smiles, he succeeded. Taking her chin into his hand to lift her head up so he’d be gazing into her eyes, he whispered to her, “We’ll be able to go home soon and then you can sleep all you want. I just need to get used to using those crutches first. How does that sound?”

Éponine gave a slight nod as Enjolras straightened up, looking over at the doctor standing at the edge of the bed. “Can you try to swing your legs over the edge?” she asked, patiently watching Enjolras slowly do so and await her next instructions.

She handed the pair of crutches to him, instructing him on how to properly support himself and not put weight on his broken leg as Éponine watched them, spacing out and beginning to block out sound as she simply watched them, caressing her bump while watching Enjolras hobble around the room on his crutches, attempting to get used to them. She didn’t notice how he had been calling her name for some time about ten minutes later until he went over to her and gently nudged her once again, breaking her out of her trance.

“What is it?” she mumbled, completely tuckered out.

“We’ll be able to go home soon,” he told her quietly, helping her to her feet and waiting as she pulled her boots on. “I just need to talk some things over with the doctors. Why don’t you go out to the waiting room? I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, then.” Éponine went over to him to stand on tiptoe and press a kiss to his cheek before leaving the room, making her way back to the waiting room and feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn’t fail to pick up on the fact that Courfeyrac and Azelma were back in the waiting room, looking visibly dishevelled and rather red in the face as they stood at opposite ends of the room, avoiding eye contact. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, going back to sit by Grantaire, who had drool trickling out of the corner of his mouth after he had fallen asleep. Pulling out her phone, she stared at her lockscreen for some time—she had recently changed it from that picture of her and Enjolras at the Broadhurst Theatre from last summer to a candid photo Feuilly had taken of them from merely two days ago, when all the Amis hung out in Central Park just for the sake of being together—before she decided to go through her photos, finding that she had nothing better to do as she patiently waited for Enjolras to be discharged from the hospital.

She particularly liked that picture that was now her lockscreen, the candid Feuilly had taken of her and Enjolras together, unbeknownst to the two of them—snow had been falling when Feuilly took the photograph and she and Enjolras had had snow in their hair, the powder white of the snow contrasting sharply against Éponine’s dark brown hair. The two of them had been sitting at the edge of Bethesda Fountain, Enjolras’ hand resting against Éponine’s bump, evidently feeling Peanut kick; she had been laughing at one of her own terrible puns as Enjolras gazed at her with a look that could only be described as complete adoration and unconditional love in his blue eyes, and she caught herself smiling at the memory of that day. All of them had just gotten together to unwind and have fun, to relax after a long week of work or classes, or in some cases, both.

She lost track of time as she scrolled through her photographs, which consisted mostly of candids of Enjolras that she took whenever she didn’t have the camera he had given her with her, with pictures of her and photos of their friends interspersed throughout. Soon enough, it was ten o’clock at night and Enjolras was allowed to leave after making a follow-up appointment at a fracture clinic the doctors recommended scheduled for two weeks after that day. After the doctors finally told Enjolras he could leave, all the Amis dispersed, bidding each other goodbye and going off in twos and threes, leaving Éponine and Enjolras alone on the pavement together among the crowds, standing underneath a streetlamp.

“You want some help?” she questioned softly, taking his arm and gazing up at him with a gentle smile on her face. Enjolras nodded, leaning on her slightly as she helped him walk down the pavement on their way to the subway. Not looking where he was going, he ended up colliding with a strange man who had been smoking on the street corner, nearly losing his balance and falling over, the man dropped his cigarette in surprise.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Enjolras apologised, avoiding eye contact as he and Éponine walked on, not wishing to stay out for longer than they wanted to.

The man, having caught a glimpse of Éponine’s face, stared after them with an unreadable expression, somewhat unable to believe what he just saw. Unable to get the young woman’s face out of his head, he crushed the remainders of his cigarette with the heel of his shoe before he started to walk into the crowds, dead set on following the couple to see if that young woman was who he thought she was.


	14. Chapter XIV

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, Éponine and Enjolras settled into a new routine—in the mornings, he would hobble into the kitchen to find her sitting at the counter with two plates of freshly made breakfast, and then she would make sure he caught a cab to his office before she left for the subway to go to work. He showed up whenever she was done teaching so the two of them could go home together on the subway, Éponine helping Enjolras with his crutches. At night, the two of them would curl up under the covers together, Enjolras’ arms around Éponine, her bump oftentimes getting in the way. After some time, he decided that he found the crutches a bit of a nuisance, though they were necessary in aiding him.

Five days after Enjolras’ accident, Éponine woke up to a surprisingly empty bed, finding that she was sprawled out like a starfish before she got up and stretched out. One quick glance at the glaring red digits of the alarm clock on the bedside table informed her that it was nine o’clock, and after rubbing her eyes with her fists in an attempt to wake herself up, she realised that it was her birthday.

 _Oh, wow,_ she thought to herself, her hand subconsciously going to her bump to rub it as Peanut gave a kick. Looking down at her bump as if she had just remembered that it was there, she murmured happily, “I’m twenty-four now, Peanut! Crazy, huh?” She laughed when Peanut simply kicked again, as if responding to her words; she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slid her feet into her fluffy bunny slippers, dragging herself over to the door and swinging it open, the scent of freshly cooked breakfast hitting her nose. Sidling into the kitchen, she found Enjolras seated at the counter, two plates of breakfast sitting before him and his crutches propped up against the edge of the counter.

She gave him a curious smile and went to sit by him, allowing him to press a kiss to her forehead as he told her, “Happy birthday, ’Ponine.”

“’Jolras, your leg’s broken, you didn’t have to do all this,” Éponine replied in lieu of a thank you, gesturing towards the breakfast he had made. It was nothing out of the ordinary—just waffles topped with blueberries and whipped cream—but she had been the one making breakfast for the both of them for the past few days, insisting on doing it herself to pay him back for all those times he had made her breakfast and because his leg was broken. It was her turn to be the overprotective one now, and so far, she was thoroughly enjoying it.

“It’s your birthday, can’t I just make birthday breakfast for my girlfriend?” Enjolras put his arm around her as she leaned into him, a laugh escaping her lips. “Also, a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

“I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?” Éponine pulled back to lightly smack his arm, grinning up at him, her dimples showing and making him flush red. “You’re getting all mouthy, pretty boy.”

“Just eat your breakfast, Éponine,” Enjolras replied in feigned exasperation, patting her on the arm and beginning to eat his own breakfast. As Éponine cut out a large chunk of waffle using her knife and fork and stuffed it in her mouth, Enjolras told her, “Jehan’s planned a little get together at his place for your birthday, by the way. We’re going to go see a show afterwards.”

Éponine perked up in interest, her eyes widening at the new information as she looked up at Enjolras, her face lighting up. “Oh, what show?”

Enjolras laughed dryly. “Well, we’ve all seen every musical there is to see already, so we’re taking you to see Anastasia again.”

“Oh, sounds cool.” Éponine cut out another chunk of waffle to stuff in her mouth once again; Enjolras thought he heard her humming “Journey to the Past” to herself. “Peanut’s going to come out of the womb singing Anastasia now,” she mused, laughing to herself at the thought of it.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Enjolras responded lightly, finishing the last of his waffles as Éponine did the same before getting up to hobble over to his crutches, propping them up under his arms and making his way back to their bedroom, Éponine close behind. She found him lying on his back in the middle of the bed, staring up at the ceiling as she went over to join him, climbing up to straddle him and laughing when he hissed at the unanticipated weight.

“Christ, you’re getting heavy,” he muttered, earning himself a smack on the arm from her.

“Shut up!” she hissed, flushing red in embarrassment as she stared down at her swelling bump. She was just a little over twenty-three weeks along now and was growing increasingly self-conscious about the weight gain.

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing!” Enjolras somehow managed to pull himself up into a sitting position with Éponine still on top of him, propping himself up against the headboard, Éponine perched comfortably in his lap, his legs outstretched. “It’s healthy, ’Ponine; it shows that Peanut is growing like they should be.”

“I guess you’re right,” Éponine replied after a few moments of silence. “But still! I feel kind of self-conscious.”

“Don’t be.” Enjolras reached up with one hand to caress her cheek, leaning in for a kiss and unable to hold back a smile at how she sighed against his lips. Once she had pulled back, their faces inches from each other, he told her, “You look radiant, Éponine. That pregnancy glow isn’t a myth.”

Éponine bowed her head and smiled to herself, and Enjolras smiled back until the smile was wiped off his face when she smacked him in the chest. “Now you’re making me blush,” she accused him, although she was grinning as she looked back up to gaze into his eyes, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands as she leaned in for another kiss. He was all too willing to kiss her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, parting his lips against hers as she did the same, his tongue delving deeper and evoking a soft moan. He could feel how she shivered as he gently ran his hands up and down her spine, feeling goosebumps on his skin as she kissed him harder, her hands moving into his hair and tangling her fingers in his curls as he let out a low groan of her name. The both of them were panting slightly by the time they broke apart, and Enjolras couldn’t help it—his lips quirked into a smirk as he gazed up into her deep brown eyes, which were darkened with lust.

“Birthday sex, ’Ponine?” he teased, letting out a soft chuckle as he took one of her hands in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Don’t you think that’s a little stereotypical?”

Éponine turned a fiery shade of red and she lightly shoved him. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” she muttered.

“Seriously, you keep going on like that and watch our Peanut’s first word be ‘fuck’,” Enjolras deadpanned, managing to keep a completely indifferent expression.

“Again, shut the fuck up!” Éponine tried to appear angry but completely failed the moment a laugh escaped her lips, making Enjolras smile at her endearing antics. “Anyway, you’re one to talk. Remember what happened on your own birthday, pretty boy?” She gestured towards her bump, smirking when he flushed scarlet at the reminder. “Yeah, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Noted,” Enjolras muttered in reply, feeling his cheeks burn at the reminder of how he had knocked her up on his own birthday months ago. He really should have thought about that before he decided to tease her.

Then again, he caught himself thinking about how a single drunken night of passion had led to something that ultimately turned out to be completely life-changing—her getting pregnant with his child had led to him finally admitting his feelings out loud to her after being the butt of everyone else’s jokes for three years for pining away, and then somewhere along the way, she somehow fell for him too and now here they were, happy together and closer than they had ever been before. The pregnancy, although accidental, had strengthened the bond between them, and Enjolras couldn’t be more thankful about that.

Not all accidents were mistakes, it turned out.

Éponine grinned and pulled him back into the kiss, feeling his lips capture hers and sighing softly as she parted her lips, moaning at the feeling of his tongue making its way into her mouth and pulling him as close to her as she could with her bump in between them. After Enjolras pulled back for a split second to tug her hoodie over her head, his lips found hers once again and they were kissing once more, much more intense than the last and sending shivers down Éponine’s spine. Just as his lips moved from hers to travel down to her neck, Peanut chose that exact moment to kick _hard_ , prompting the two of them to abruptly jump apart and stare down at her bump. After a few moments of silence, Éponine laughed out loud.

“They really like that, don’t they?” she murmured, watching how Enjolras’ face lit up when he placed his hand on her abdomen and felt Peanut kicking for him. After a while, she took his face into her hands once again and pulled him into a fiery kiss, moaning as his tongue slipped into her mouth and proceeding to forget about everything around them but him.

 _I love you,_ she thought, but didn’t say, as he unclasped her bra and tossed it off the bed and out of sight, his lips still on hers, passionately kissing her and winding his fingers into her thick, dark locks. _I love you so much._

* * *

Enjolras thought he might have actually reached nirvana by the time he and Éponine were pulling their clothes back on, completely spent from the four _amazing_ rounds they just had, and he was breathless by the time Éponine climbed off his lap and slid off the bed to make her way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower, stumbling just slightly as she went out into the hallway and left Enjolras alone in the bedroom. Earlier on before she left for the bathroom, he couldn’t help but remark about how adorable she looked with her short stature paired with her little round belly despite how much such comments embarrassed her out of her wits and left her a stammering mess. Grinning rather goofily to himself, he leaned back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Éponine to come back from the bathroom.

Soon enough, she was back, dressed in a new pair of jeans she had bought for herself about a week ago and an oversized Great Comet hoodie that didn’t actually hide her bump, droplets of water dripping from the tips of her hair. Dragging her feet over to the bed, she climbed on and lightly shoved Enjolras. “Aren’t you going to shower, pretty boy?” she questioned, wiping some sweat off his brow. “Do you need help?”

“I’ll be fine,” Enjolras reassured her, patting her arm. “Besides, we have that shower chair you bought for yourself a year ago. I’ll manage.” It had only been five days and he was already sick of how inconvenient his broken leg was, completely fed up with how much more difficult it made everything. He couldn’t wait until his leg healed and he could get this goddamn cast off.

(A mere day after the accident, Courfeyrac had taken it upon himself to draw a poor imitation of a penis on the sole of the cast in red Sharpie. The intricate flowers Jehan had drawn around Courfeyrac’s crude drawing, though pretty, didn’t really help to cover it up.)

Éponine could clearly hear the teasing in his voice and shoved him even more roughly than she intended to, hissing, “Shut up, it’s comfortable! Besides, it’s coming in handy now that your leg’s all fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Enjolras relented, scooting over to the edge of the bed and grabbing his crutches to prop himself up, managing to shuffle himself out of the bedroom and presumably down the hallway to the bathroom as Éponine sidled out to go to her old bedroom, which was now mostly bare save her old nightstand and the dresser. She had decided to give her old, admittedly rather lumpy bed to Azelma, who had proceeded to sell it to a classmate, and she hadn’t had much furniture in the first place anyway, leaving her dresser, nightstand, and the desk she had bought from IKEA that she had never ended up using. She still had yet to completely clean out her dresser and nightstand, which was why she hadn’t given or sold those away, and she went over to sit on the space where her bed used to be and pried open the drawer of her nightstand, rather surprised to find an envelope in there.

Taking it out, she turned it over and nearly actually jumped in surprise to find that it was the letter Enjolras had enclosed in his Christmas present to her, immediately feeling guilty upon realising that she never even bothered to open it and read what was inside. She vaguely remembered how at some point, Combeferre had informed her of a phenomenon typically known as “baby brain”, and she assumed it was because of that that she had forgotten about Enjolras’ letter. Even still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for remembering what Combeferre had told her but not remembering to read Enjolras’ letter, and when she heard the door opening behind her, she hastily tucked the letter into the back pocket of her jeans as she shot up to her feet, whirling around and nearly tripping, seeing Enjolras standing in the doorway with his crutches under his arms.

Giving her a curious look, evidently concerned as to why she seemed so jumpy, he cocked his head and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Éponine replied, trying not to sound so hasty as she smiled at him. “Yeah, I am. Just give me a few seconds.”

“Go ahead.” Enjolras backed out of the doorway to allow Éponine passage and watched as she darted back to their bedroom, stowing the letter away in the journal she had been good about keeping ever since Dr. Bourrienne suggested that she do so, knowing that Enjolras would never even think about invading her privacy. Shoving the journal back into the drawer of the nightstand, she went back out to meet Enjolras in the living room, taking her coat off of the hanger and pulling it up, managing to zip it up despite her swelling bump.

After helping Enjolras into his own coat, Éponine flung open the door and walked out onto the steps, keeping her eyes on Enjolras to make sure he wouldn’t topple over at any moment. To her delight, the days were slowly but steadily growing warmer—it had been officially spring for a little over a week now—and she was happily looking forward to when she didn’t have to wear a thousand layers everywhere until she remembered about how equally terrible New York summers were, groaning inwardly at the thought of how Peanut would be born in July, when the summer weather was at its worst. Shaking that thought from her mind, she carefully guided Enjolras down the steps despite his muttered protests and the two of them began to walk together to the subway station, Éponine seizing the opportunity to fuss over Enjolras as he had done with her so many times before.

“’Ponine, I don’t see why I have to sit as well,” Enjolras grumbled as Éponine forced him to take a seat beside her once they boarded their train, snagging two seats in a corner of the train car.

“Your leg’s broken, ’Jolras,” Éponine responded, imitating his stern tone to perfection and making him grimace at how annoyingly good she was at impersonating him. “Now we both have excuses to sit down, so just sit tight! It’s not the end of the world, you know.” After a few moments, she added rather thoughtfully, “Besides, you should be glad you get to sit down, God knows any of these poor fucks standing up would die to sit down in your spot.” Her little remark earned her quite a few contemptuous looks from fellow passengers, mostly from those who were standing up and those who had small children with them; Enjolras didn’t fail to pick up on that fact, gently elbowing Éponine in the side.

“Éponine, couldn’t you at least stand to be a little quieter?” he muttered to her, keeping his voice low so the other passengers wouldn’t hear. “And you really need to stop swearing in front of all these little children, you know. I get it when it’s with your students, but these children are young; they’re impressionable. We don’t want to get into the habit of swearing around Peanut once they’re born, do we?”

Éponine stuck her tongue out at him, begrudgingly nodding in agreement. “Okay, fine, but you can’t stop me from swearing as much as I fucking please when we’re not around so many little kids.” When one was the daughter of a wolf, some habits never really went away.

Enjolras shrugged, figuring that he should just go with it and not mention how she had just cursed again for fear of her becoming livid, or worse, causing her to burst into tears. He hadn’t failed to notice how lately, her hormones had been all over the place, and he assumed that it would only get worse from there, so the least he could do was fulfil her wishes as best as he could and hope for the best. “Fair enough.”

Once they reached Brooklyn, it was only a few minutes’ walk to Jehan’s apartment building, and once Éponine and Enjolras had reached the loft and knocked on the door, Éponine braced herself for the inevitable shouts of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” once Jehan opened the door. Sure enough, she was greeted by shouting, and she managed a grin despite how the noise was beginning to inexplicably give her a throbbing headache as she and Enjolras stepped through the threshold into the loft, finding it elaborately decorated for Éponine’s birthday, a table having been set aside for her presents. Éponine’s face lit up upon spotting Toby in Grantaire’s arms in the middle of the living room, promptly ignoring everyone else to rush over and take Toby into her arms once she had thrown her coat off and haphazardly hung it up on her hook, wanting nothing more than to cuddle with a dog until further notice.

“You could at least say hi,” Grantaire drawled when Éponine carried Toby over to the couch, setting him down in her lap and scratching him below the chin.

“Oh, hi,” Éponine replied dismissively, her attention on the little Yorkie in her lap as she grinned down at him, laughing at how his little tongue dangled out of his mouth as he wagged his tail happily. Grantaire rolled his eyes and went to sit by Éponine on the couch, putting an arm around her.

“We throw you a party and you immediately approach the dog in the room instead,” he muttered, a definite hint of teasing in his tone as he pressed a friendly little kiss to her temple. “Classic Éponine.”

“Shut up,” Éponine mumbled in response, still stroking Toby’s fur. “It’s my birthday, leave me be.”

Grantaire dropped his arm from around her and got to his feet, saying, “Well, just tell us whenever you feel like doing something! We can watch a movie or smash a cake in Courf’s face or something like that, if you want.”

“I heard that!” Éponine heard Courfeyrac screech from across the loft, prompting her to finally break the Yorkie’s gaze and look up to find Courfeyrac standing in the kitchen, munching on popcorn. Courfeyrac flipped Grantaire off, fuming as the latter simply cackled and stuck his tongue out in response. Éponine shook her head at their antics, rubbing her bump with one hand and stroking Toby’s fur with the other, laughing softly when Peanut kicked. She reached up to grab Grantaire by the arm and tug him back down into a seated position beside her.

“You haven’t felt Peanut kick yet,” she told him, pausing for a few moments before offering, “Do you want to?”

Grantaire’s face lit up and he nodded almost violently, placing his hand on Éponine’s bump and gasping softly when he felt a kick, his green eyes widening. “Holy shit,” he murmured, astounded by the odd sensation. “How does that feel from your end?”

“To be frank? Painful,” Éponine deadpanned in reply, snorting at how Grantaire’s eyes widened even further and continuing to stroke Toby’s fur as he panted happily in her lap. Was panting the dog equivalent to cats purring? “I swear they’re out to get me. They’re always kicking the most when I’m trying to sleep too! What the hell is up with that?”

Grantaire shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that. “I’m not the expert here. Why don’t you talk to ’Ferre?”

“Maybe I will,” she replied, shoving him away. “Go away, I want some quality time with your doggo over here. Go make out with Jehan or something.”

“You could be a little nicer about it! Sheesh.” Grantaire got to his feet once again, telling Toby in that nasally baby voice of his, “Be good to Auntie Éponine, okay, Toby?” before going off to the kitchen to talk to Courfeyrac, leaving Éponine alone with Toby. She just stroked his fur even more and alternated between talking quietly to him and talking quietly to Peanut, not noticing when Bahorel and Feuilly came over to sit on the empty space on the sofa, sitting to her right side; she only looked up when Feuilly spoke.

“You’re looking great, Éponine,” he complimented, smiling at her as he ran his fingers through his dark curly hair, as was his habit whenever he was nervous; Éponine assumed it was because he was cautious about potentially angering her, and honestly, she couldn’t blame him—her hormones had been going crazy lately and Enjolras had managed to reduce her to tears more than once after she misinterpreted his tone of voice.

She grinned back at Feuilly, bringing Toby up to her face and resisting a laugh when she felt him lick one of her dimples. “Thanks, Feuilly. Haven’t been feeling so great lately, though.” Peanut always chose the most inconvenient times to do cartwheels on her bladder, such as in the middle of teaching a class and at night when she was trying to sleep, and ever since the day of Enjolras’ accident, when she threw up on the way to the hospital, she had been becoming increasingly nauseous and had thrown up multiple times since the day of the accident. The vomiting wasn’t as frequent as it had been during her first trimester, but she still wasn’t pleased about the morning sickness seemingly making a return when it should have disappeared by now.

“You okay?” Bahorel asked gruffly, reaching out to pat her back.

Éponine managed a grin, shrugging it off. “I’m fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Has Enj been treating you well?” Bahorel questioned; Éponine could tell from his tone of voice that he would be ready to fight if she just gave the word.

“Oh, he’s been awesome,” she assured him a bit hastily. “It’s me that’s been a bit of a pain in the ass, my hormones are all over the fucking place.” Just last night, the two of them couldn’t decide on a movie to watch together, resulting in a little spat that ended with her bursting into tears. She cringed to think about it now.

“He’s seemed pretty happy lately,” Feuilly remarked, looking over to where Enjolras was leaning against the brick wall, his crutches propped up against the wall as well, as he made conversation with Combeferre. “He really loves you, Éponine. I can’t remember the last time I ever saw him as happy as he is now.”

Éponine looked down into her lap and smiled, giggling when Toby barked in response, seeming to think that her dimpled smile had been intended for him. Lightly elbowing Feuilly, she reminded him, “He had a crush on you back in college, you know.”

Feuilly had the modesty to turn the faintest shade of pink at the reminder, replying, “Yeah, I know.” After a few moments, he added teasingly, “I wasn’t nearly as oblivious as you were, though.”

Éponine really elbowed Feuilly this time, getting him in the ribs and catching him off-guard. “Oh, fuck off. I’m _sorry_ I’ve never had someone look at me the way he does. How the fuck was I supposed to know he had feelings for me?”

Bahorel barked out a laugh and looked back at Enjolras, grinning upon catching sight of a tiny bit of the poorly drawn dick Courfeyrac had meticulously—well, meticulous by Courfeyrac standards—traced out on the sole of his cast. Feuilly and Éponine followed Bahorel’s gaze, finding themselves smiling.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Éponine murmured rather absent-mindedly, catching her mind drifting back to thoughts of the amazing sex they had had that morning and feeling her cheeks grow warm at the memory. She liked being in control, being on top of him as he sat up with his back against the headboard with her arms around his neck, the two of them gazing into each other’s eyes as they met their glorious ends. Peanut’s constant kicking that morning had added a funny sort of tenderness to the moment too, and she wondered what their lives would be like once Peanut was born and they had to deal with the trials and tribulations of parenthood. She thought about how Peanut seemed to be more subdued now, not kicking quite as much as they had this morning, as her mind wandered off to thoughts about how she had sworn to be the best goddamn mother she could possibly be to her child. Just then, her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a bark from Toby and she snapped out of it, turning her attention back to the dog in her lap, laughing at how he seemed irritated at being ignored by his favourite aunt.

“Enjolras is going to be a great dad, you know,” Feuilly told her, turning back to look down at Toby in Éponine’s lap as Bahorel did the same, the three of them staring at the puppy.

“He really is,” Bahorel agreed. “But Ep, if you ever need me to kick his ass for you, let me know.”

“Thanks, B, but I doubt that’ll be necessary,” Éponine replied, smiling at him before cooing at how Toby let out a massive yawn, scratching him beneath his chin and giggling when he wagged his tail. “’Jolras is just… he’s been so great.” _I love him so much,_ she almost added out loud before she narrowly stopped herself from doing so. She knew at this point that she loved him, but she still thought it would be wrong to say it out loud so soon—the words just felt too precious, too sacred, to be recklessly thrown around just like that.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Éponine turned her attention back to Toby as Feuilly took Bahorel’s hand in his and got up, dragging him over to the kitchen, presumably to get snacks. Éponine bounced Toby up and down in her lap, humming quietly and feeling a single kick from Peanut when Gavroche came by and sat down beside her on that sofa. She looked up when he made his presence known, her brow furrowing at the troubled look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” she asked in concern, reaching out to pat his back.

“I’m so sorry, Éponine,” he blurted out in lieu of an explanation, his elbows on his knees as he hung his head, running a hand through his tousled dirty blond locks. (Éponine often wondered how for someone of part Moroccan descent, he had blond hair and blue eyes—she supposed he had somehow inherited them from their father’s side of the family, as did Azelma with her vibrant red hair.) “I—I was reckless, just getting into a fight like that because I’m fucking incapable of controlling my temper, and then Enjolras got involved because I would’ve done something I’d regret now and now his leg is broken and fuck, I’m so sorry, I could’ve just ignored those assholes who pushed him out onto the street in the first place and—”

“Gav! Stop.” Éponine put a hand on Gavroche’s shoulder, silencing him. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? Yeah, you need to be a little better when it comes to picking your battles, but ’Jolras breaking his leg wasn’t your fault. Like he said, life just happens—a car just happened to be passing by when he fell, and there was a patch of ice, wasn’t there? Don’t blame yourself, Gav. It isn’t your fault.” She put an arm around her brother and pulled him closer to her, still bouncing Toby in her lap as she laid her head on Gavroche’s shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, baby bro.”

“I’m turning eighteen in a few weeks,” Gavroche reminded her rather dully as he took Toby from her despite her protests and began to rub his belly.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m still six years older than you,” she retorted, lifting her head up to stick her tongue out at him. “And it’s _my_ birthday today, give me Toby.” She gently pried the Yorkie out of her brother’s hands and laid the dog in her lap once again, cooing as he rolled onto his back and beginning to rub his belly. She jumped slightly when she felt Peanut give a hard kick—they had been subdued for quite a while until now—and Gavroche didn’t fail to pick up on how his sister jolted slightly in her seat, furrowing his brow.

“You okay?” he asked, rather alarmed.

“It’s fine, Peanut just kicked,” Éponine reassured him. “They’ve been quiet for a while now, I was just surprised.”

Gavroche’s blue eyes lit up and he immediately asked, “Can I feel it?”

Éponine laughed and lifted Toby to her face so Gavroche could have access to her bump, telling him, “Be my guest.”

Gavroche pressed a hand to his sister’s bump, biting his lip in anticipation, and his eyes widened upon feeling an odd sensation that he could only assume was the baby kicking. Éponine grinned at her brother’s reaction, only vaguely aware of how Toby was licking away at the dimple on her left cheek as she felt Peanut kicking hard for their uncle. Gavroche laughed quietly at the feeling, saying, “That feels so fucking weird. It’s so hard to believe there’s an actual person growing inside you.” He was still unable to process the fact that in July, he’d be an actual uncle to a tiny human.

“Well, you better believe it,” Éponine told him as he took his hand off of her bump and she shifted in her seat, groaning slightly at how hard Peanut was kicking. “ _Christ_ , Peanut, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Gavroche furrowed his brow in confusion. “Does it actually hurt?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Éponine replied sheepishly. “I just hope they’re not as feisty as they are right now once they’re born.” She wasn’t quite looking forward to all the sleepless nights she and Enjolras were bound to get in the near future. “Jesus, I’m really looking forward to being as sleep deprived as I used to be back in high school,” she grumbled, mostly to herself.

“You’ll have a lot of people willing to help take care of the baby, though,” Gavroche reminded her. “Like, I know _I_ never want kids, and I know for certain that Bahorel and Feuilly don’t want them either. R’s too focused on Toby to think about having kids anytime soon and I don’t think ’Ferre, Courf, and Zel want them too badly either, but I know we’ll all help you and Enj out with the baby.”

“‘It takes a village to raise a child’,” Éponine quoted dryly, laughing. “Seriously though, thank you guys so much. I just hope I don’t traumatise this kid with my limited parenting skills.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Gavroche told her candidly. “Our parents were _terrible_. I’m sure we and Zel could write a manual on what not to do when it comes to good parenting,” he joked, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m just glad they’re out of our lives now.”

“Yeah,” Éponine replied, sounding rather distant as she was hit by a memory of her encounter with their mother at the grocery store a little over a week ago. She decided not to bring it up to her siblings; they had enough on their plate already, what with Gavroche and the stress and anticipation that came with waiting for college acceptance letters towards the end of senior year and Azelma with her pre-med courses and the two jobs she was working to support herself. Telling them of how she had run into their mother after Montparnasse informed her of how their parents were out on parole would only stress them out further.

Wanting to take her mind off the subject of their parents, Éponine changed the subject and questioned mildly, “So what’s going on with Courf and Zel now?”

Gavroche made a face at the thought of it, replying, “They’re back to being fuckbuddies.”

“Just fuckbuddies?” Try as she might, Éponine failed to keep the disappointment out of her voice, remembering what had happened the last time—the two of them had ended up in a bitter fight that had lasted a couple of months before they gave in to temptation and started fucking again. She didn’t want her baby sister to repeat her mistakes; she could see how Courfeyrac and Azelma were very much attracted to each other, and she feared that this arrangement was getting in the way of their happiness.

“Yep,” Gavroche confirmed, popping the ‘p’ and shuddering at the thought of how many times he had nearly walked in on one of his _sisters_ having sex with one of his _roommates_ and the one time he actually did walk in on them when they didn’t have the decency nor patience to take it to Courfeyrac’s bedroom despite knowing full well that Gavroche would be home at any moment. “It’s really gross, you know; I’d come home and the first thing I’d hear is Zel screaming Courf’s name. I actually walked in on them once.” He grimaced; he oftentimes wished that bleaching one’s eyes out was an acceptable method of removing memories after that time he caught them fucking on the kitchen table, where he _ate his meals_. Well, used to, anyway.

Needless to say, he never ate at the kitchen table ever again after that incident.

Éponine made a face, grossed out by the thought. “Well, you’re not alone; I went to Zel’s place once and I walked in on them fucking.” She only hoped poor Peanut would never have to be subjected to accidentally walking in on their aunt’s various sexual escapades typically involving Courfeyrac when they were older. Éponine was scarred enough as it was. Sighing, she went on, “I just wish the two of them would stop being complete idiots about the whole thing. They clearly have feelings for each other; they just refuse to admit it.” Letting out another sigh, she leaned back and felt Peanut kicking as she placed Toby in her lap once again, absent-mindedly rubbing the dog’s belly. “They’re going to get hurt again if they keep going on like this.”

“They’re adults, they’ll sort it all out,” Gavroche replied, although there was a hint of doubt in his tone as he looked around the room, realising that Azelma and Courfeyrac were nowhere to be seen. Naturally, he assumed they had snuck off to the spacious bathroom or maybe even Jehan’s bedroom to have sex, and he felt his stomach churn at the thought of it, forcing himself to stop thinking about it further. Changing the subject, he asked Éponine, “So do you want to blow the candles out anytime soon?”

Éponine looked up and looked around the room to see if everyone else was present, and sure enough, Azelma and Courfeyrac were both absent as she had suspected. “I’ll wait for Courf and Zel to stop fucking in the bathroom or wherever the fuck it is they are to do that,” she replied casually, turning all her attention back to Toby as Peanut gave another kick.

Gavroche let out a loud sigh and got up to march over to Jehan, Éponine watching in amusement as Gavroche seemed to extract information from Jehan about where Azelma and Courfeyrac had disappeared to and proceed to march up the stairs to God knows where. Éponine took a look around the room at the others, smiling fondly to herself at the sight of their friends all gathered together for her birthday—Marius and Cosette seemed to be adding finishing touches to an alarmingly large three-tier cake that Éponine assumed was her birthday cake, Bahorel and Feuilly sneaking bites of the chocolate chip cookies from the enormous cookie jar on the kitchen counter behind Marius and Cosette despite Jehan’s weak attempts at reprimanding. Combeferre was engaged in conversation with Enjolras near the front door, Grantaire and Joly and Bossuet seeming to be involved in a light argument over glasses of wine while Musichetta leaned against the brick wall between two large windows and idly listened to the three of them argue.

Éponine couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how this was the last birthday she was going to have before she became a full-time mom and they would have Peanut in the midst of this all by her next birthday. She was endlessly grateful about the fact that she would have Enjolras and all of their friends by their side to help them raise their child, and she swore to herself that she would give Peanut the best goddamn family in the history of families, the family her Peanut deserved.

It was the least she could do for her child.

Feeling another throbbing headache coming on, she let Jehan whisk her away to the kitchen once Gavroche had dragged Azelma and Courfeyrac back down to the living room, handing Toby off to Grantaire as she did so. The others were gathered around Éponine and her enormous birthday cake as Combeferre took it upon himself to light the candles, the others watching in anticipation. Éponine inched closer to Enjolras, who was standing beside her, propped up on his crutches, and she felt his breath hitch when she laid her head on his shoulder as she watched Combeferre light up the candles on all three layers, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Once all twenty-four candles were lit, Éponine stood there awkwardly with a hand resting against her bump as the others sang out happy birthday to her, some in perfect harmony and others screeching the words in her ear. Nevertheless, she appreciated the thought all the same, blowing out the candles and unable to restrain herself from grinning when the others whooped and cheered, thumping her on the back.

Handing a plastic knife to Éponine, Joly asked, “Do you want to cut out the cake?”

Éponine nodded, happily taking the knife from Joly and taking a plate from the stack of plates Jehan had very kindly provided within arm’s reach on the kitchen counter, cutting out a slice of cake from the top layer and carefully placing it on the plate. Bringing it to her face to sniff it, her delighted expression abruptly transformed into one of slight panic when she felt her stomach lurch at the smell, feeling nauseous all of a sudden, that nauseous feeling bearing a suspiciously strong resemblance to the nausea she had constantly felt during the first trimester of her pregnancy. The colour draining from her face at the feeling of the acid splashing up her windpipe, she quickly placed the plate of cake back on the counter without another word and rushed off to the bathroom, wasting no time in throwing open the door and kneeling beside the toilet bowl to throw up, feeling tears form in her eyes as she emptied her stomach of that morning’s breakfast and what little she had eaten of the snacks Jehan had provided for her birthday.

Back in the kitchen, everyone was exchanging looks of consternation as Enjolras rushed off to the bathroom in pursuit of Éponine, alarmed at how she had rushed off with that look on her face that had been so constant back when she threw up continuously, and without a second thought, he carried himself to the bathroom as fast as his crutches could take him and found her clutching the toilet bowl, her face covered by hair as she retched and threw up.

Managing to get down into a seated position beside her, he pulled her hair back and saw how she had tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes as she violently vomited the putrid remains of her breakfast into the toilet bowl, chest heaving as she struggled to catch a breath.

“’Ponine, are you okay?” Enjolras asked before he could stop himself, reaching out to rub her back and silently shouting at himself for asking such a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay; she was throwing up after week after blissful week of claiming that the morning sickness had stopped, for fuck’s sake.

Éponine looked up and Enjolras braced himself for the fire in her eyes, caught off-guard when he was simply met by a despairing, teary-eyed gaze instead of a livid glare as he usually received whenever he asked her if she was fine when she so obviously wasn’t. “No,” she replied, and for once, her tone didn’t seem to give away the fact that what she was saying should have been blatantly obvious to Enjolras; instead, she sounded panicked and scared. “’Jolras, I don’t know.” Wincing, she felt the bile rise up in her throat again and stuck her face in the toilet bowl, retching and throwing up once again before she managed to say, “I forgot to tell you how I threw up on my way to the hospital when you had your accident.” Feeling tears leak out of the corners of her eyes as she felt that same awful churning feeling in her stomach, she vomited yet again before breathing heavily and muttering, “I've been throwing up again ever since.”

Looking up and seeing the look of utter alarm on Enjolras’ face, she hastily continued, “It’s not as constant as it used to be, but I still fucking hate it, Enjolras, I just want it to stop.” After retching and throwing up once more, finally feeling as if she had completely emptied her stomach of whatever food she had been in the midst of digesting when she had felt that terribly familiar nausea upon catching a whiff of her sweet-smelling cake, she stood up, helping Enjolras to his feet before going over to the sink to splash water on her face. “I’ve been having the worst headaches too. I just feel like they won’t go away.”

“I think we should talk to Combeferre about this,” Enjolras suggested rather hesitantly as she wiped her face off with one of the towels Jehan had put out on the bathroom counter near the toothbrushes. “Or maybe you should call Dr. Bourrienne.”

Éponine looked up after wiping her face clean of the water she had splashed on her face, giving him a crooked, feeble smile. “Maybe I should,” she echoed, her voice faraway as she made her way back out to the living room, her hand resting against her bump as she forced a grin onto her face, not wanting the others to worry more than they probably were as she went back to her cake, continuing to cut out pieces as if nothing had happened. Enjolras, still worried out of his mind, hobbled over to Combeferre, pulling the med student aside to talk to him in private as he had done so before Éponine blew out the candles of her cake.

“I think something is wrong with Éponine,” Enjolras confided under his breath as he and Combeferre separated themselves from the other Amis, who had all gathered around Éponine, eagerly awaiting their share of cake. “She just told me that she’s been throwing up ever since my accident, and she says she’s having these headaches that won’t go away.” Biting down on his lip to prevent the tears from coming at the thought of anything horrible happening to his darling Éponine and their Peanut, he muttered, “I’m just—I’m so worried, ’Ferre, what if something is seriously wrong? What if something happens to Peanut? What if something happens to ’Ponine herself?”

“She really should see her doctor,” Combeferre suggested, his tone anxious as he glanced over at Éponine, who was playing with Toby on the rug in front of the TV and acting as if nothing had happened. “I’m sorry, Enjolras, but I’m still just a med student, I only know so much. Those symptoms sound serious at this point in pregnancy, though, she needs to see her doctor about it. When is her next appointment?”

“April sixteenth,” Enjolras replied, not even needing to check; he had made it a habit to memorise the dates of Éponine’s appointments so he could make sure he had nothing going on during them.

Combeferre clicked his tongue. “That’s not soon enough. Maybe she should consider calling her doctor?”

“Éponine’s one of the most stubborn people ever, though,” Enjolras reminded Combeferre. “She’ll insist everything’s fine until the pain becomes too much to bear, and even then, she’s good at hiding how much she’s hurting.” It pained Enjolras to think about it; he wished he could just make everything better, even though the more rational part of him knew that was next to impossible.

“Well, at any rate, just try to convince her to call her doctor about it,” Combeferre told Enjolras plainly. “Those symptoms sound serious, Enjolras, she really needs to get it checked out before it potentially gets worse.”

At Combeferre’s words, Enjolras bit down on his lip so hard it bled, jumping slightly at the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth and reaching up to wipe it away with the sleeve of his burgundy cardigan. He turned his head to steal a glance at Éponine, who was still playing with Toby on the rug with the biggest smile on her face, Grantaire sitting beside her cross-legged with a mouthful of cake. Even though Enjolras knew what had happened and had been there for it, he found it hard to believe that just ten minutes ago, she had been crying in the bathroom, vomiting her guts out.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he brought himself over to grab a slice of cake before sitting down with Feuilly and Bahorel on the couch to eat it, somehow managing to use his crutches to propel himself towards the living room with a plate of cake in his hands. Stealing several wistful glances at Éponine, Enjolras refused to dwell on it any further, making a mental note to somehow convince her to call Dr. Bourrienne once they got back home.

The rest of Éponine’s birthday passed by with nothing particularly big happening, and before they knew it, Grantaire’s sister Rachelle stopped by to pick Toby up as the rest of them got ready to go to Times Square to see Anastasia. After pulling her coat and boots on, making sure the bump was snug, Éponine went over to Enjolras to help him into his own coat.

“’Ponine, when will you stop wearing those boots?” he asked, looking down at the knee-high Uggs she had somehow managed to button up with her bump in the way.

“When I can no longer bend over and get up again after doing so,” Éponine replied lightly as she buttoned up Enjolras’ coat for him, revelling in how she got to be the protective one for once. “I’m going to keep wearing my boots until either the weather gets warm enough for me to wear Vans or until I can’t put them on myself anymore.”

“Fair enough.” Enjolras bit his lip when Éponine pulled his grey beanie over his head, giving a dimpled smile at how a few golden curls stuck out from under the cap and making his heart melt. Even still, he needed to tell her to at least consider giving Dr. Bourrienne a call, so as they were all filing out of the apartment, he suggested nonchalantly, “Why don’t you call Dr. Bourrienne? She did say to call if you had any concerns.”

Éponine looked up at him as all fifteen of the Amis filed into the enormous service elevator of the apartment building, taking up most of the space in the clunky old thing. “You know what? I will. I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

A look of surprise flitted across Enjolras’ face at how unexpectedly easy convincing her had been, having expected her to either become furious or burst into tears at the mere suggestion of such a thing. He let her loosely link her arm with his as the Amis went out into the streets of Brooklyn, making their way to the train station to go back to Manhattan. The rest of the journey went by without a hitch and before they knew it, they were boarding a train that was to take them back to Manhattan, where they would switch trains to go to Times Square and go see Anastasia again. Éponine was one of the last to enter the train car, Enjolras by her side, after the passengers began to grow restless and started to usher others inside in the hopes of getting on the train sooner.

Amid the rush, Éponine didn’t notice the man with bright red hair flecked with streaks of grey standing on the platform, staring after her with a calculating look in his beady eyes as he watched the train speed by and disappear from sight.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> granted, this chapter was a little more filler-y than most, but i included a little bit towards the end that'll move the plot along. at least, i hope it will.


	15. Chapter XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did as much research as i could while writing this but there are still bound to be some inaccuracies, so i'll be taking a little bit of creative licence with this.

* * *

Enjolras was relieved to find out that Éponine ended up calling Dr. Bourrienne after all, although he was none too happy about the fact that the doctor’s schedule was jam-packed until further notice, which meant Éponine wouldn’t be able to actually meet with her in person until the day of her next appointment. He had to sit by and hold Éponine’s hair back as the vomiting steadily grew more frequent with each passing day as it had done back during her early days of pregnancy. Enjolras found it rather unsettling to see her throwing up like this with her steadfastly growing bump, wishing he could put a stop to the headaches and the nausea so she and their Peanut could be okay, but life never seemed to be that much of a breeze, especially when it came to Éponine.

Enjolras tended to catch the more sentimental part of himself wishing he could just kiss it all better during all the times Éponine quietly complained about how life seemed to be out to get her, seeming to punish her for her parents’ actions and put her through a hard time simply for being the daughter of a wolf. It broke Enjolras’ heart to see Éponine so resigned to going through times of difficulty, wishing there was a way he could permanently erase that part of her life to make her at least a little happier than she was now. For now, though, he was content with the fact that she didn’t seem nearly as upset about her parents as she had been back when she found out they were out on parole. She often expressed hope that her run-in with her mother would turn out to just have been a one-time thing, and for her sake, Enjolras hoped so too.

By the time Éponine’s next appointment with Dr. Bourrienne rolled around, the doctor Enjolras had been seeing about his leg had given him the green light to start putting weight on his left leg every now and then, although he shouldn’t be doing it too often for fear of it slowing the healing process, and if he was getting better as well as he was right now, he would be just fine by the time of Marius and Cosette’s wedding. Enjolras didn’t mind it too much—the doctors had removed his old cast and replaced it with a new one, and of course Courfeyrac had wasted no time in drawing a dick on the new cast, much to Enjolras’ distaste. At least Jehan did a better job of covering it up with his intricate drawings of flowers this time.

On the morning of April sixteenth, Enjolras woke up to find Éponine clinging to him in her sleep, her forehead beaded with sweat, her tousled brown locks falling into her face. He noticed how her face seemed to be rather pinched and he pulled her as close to him as he could with her bump getting in the way. His heart skipped a beat at the realisation of how she was growing big, and fast, and he knew that before either of them knew it, they would have Peanut with them. He turned his head to look through slightly blurred vision at the various Polaroids Éponine had taken of herself and taped up on the mirror hung up on the wall, able to see how her bump had grown over time through the pictures she had taken. Scattered amongst the pregnancy pictures were candid photographs taken during outings with the Amis or during the times Éponine decided that Enjolras’ smile was too damn cute not to capture on film, and he caught himself smiling drowsily at the sight of those pictures when he felt Éponine stir in his arms.

Gazing down at her as her big brown eyes slowly blinked open, he murmured, “Good morning, ’Ponine.”

She let out a massive yawn that could rival those of Toby, mustering a bleary-eyed smile as she gazed back up at him. “Morning, ’Jolras.”

Enjolras buried his face in her hair and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, his hand absently stroking her hair as they lay there in bed together, silent and comfortable in each other’s simple presence. The corners of Éponine’s lips tugged up in a dimpled smile when she felt Enjolras’ free hand drift down to her bump, feeling around through the hoodie she was wearing for any movement from their Peanut. She had grown quite a bit in the past three weeks, and that stupid pregnancy app Joly had talked her into downloading some time ago told her that Peanut was now the size of a head of lettuce.

Éponine and Enjolras had finally cleaned out her old bedroom and it was now completely bare, ready to be transformed into a nursery for Peanut, and Éponine was beginning to think about painting a mural on one wall and painting the other walls a creamy white colour. She and Enjolras hadn’t put much planning yet towards the nursery; the two of them had been preoccupied with other things, such as Éponine with her classes and worrying about her parents and Enjolras with his gradually healing leg and a new case he had taken on.

Éponine turned her head to look up at Enjolras, suggesting softly, “Do you want to go look at cribs or something before the appointment?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Why not?”

Éponine’s lips curved into a sleepy smile as she leaned up to press her lips to his in a soft kiss, full of promise and tenderness, her small hand going up to caress his cheek. Enjolras was more than happy to kiss her back, one arm around her and a hand still feeling around her swelling bump for movement from Peanut as he felt her lips slowly part from his, his blue eyes blinking open to find her gazing at him through groggy, half-lidded brown eyes, a gentle smile on her face. Soon enough, that smile turned into a grimace when she felt Peanut kick hard, the first movement she felt from them that morning. Enjolras felt it as well, his blue eyes lighting up at the feeling of their baby kicking.

“Dr. Bourrienne says they’ll start responding to movement around this point in pregnancy,” Éponine whispered to Enjolras. “Why don’t you talk to them and see what happens? I did it last week and they kicked for me.”

Enjolras decided to give it a shot, pressing his hand against Éponine’s bump and murmuring, “Hi, Peanut. Hi, baby.” He had thought he would feel ridiculous for talking to his girlfriend’s baby bump, but instead, the only thing he registered was a feeling of absolute warmth and love overcoming him at the thought that their baby could hear what he was saying.

Éponine caught herself smiling as she propped herself up against the headboard so Enjolras’ head would be resting near her bump, his hand still gently caressing her bump, gazing at it as if it were something sacred. “Can you hear me, baby? It’s me, Enjolras, your dad; your mom and I are so excited for you to get here, Peanut. We love you so much, baby.” His voice lowering to a whisper, he said softly, “We love you so, so, so much, Peanut. All we want is for you to be happy, the happiest you can possibly be, and I promise I’ll always be there for you. When it comes to what you are as a person, all that matters is that it doesn’t matter—your mom and I love you all the same. We just want you to be happy, and have courage and be kind. That’s all you have to do, Peanut, and we’ll be so proud of you no matter what.” Pressing his lips to Éponine’s bump in a tender kiss, he whispered, “We love you so much, baby. We can’t wait to meet you.”

His words were well-received by Peanut, who kicked vigorously in response and evoked a bright smile from Enjolras at the feeling of his and Éponine’s baby responding to his words, his blue eyes lighting up in utter joy; Éponine didn’t realise she had had tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of Enjolras being all fatherly until she noticed a tiny wet patch on her hoodie. As Enjolras pressed another kiss to her bump after Peanut kicked some more for him, Éponine felt herself falling even more in love with the dork, unable to tell the difference between his smile and sunshine.

He looked up to find her hastily wiping away what looked suspiciously like tears, and he furrowed his brow and asked, “’Ponine, are you crying?”

“No,” Éponine immediately denied, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of the hoodie she had stolen out of Enjolras’ closet. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, simply pulling himself up to sit next to her and pressing a kiss to her temple. The two of them just sat there for a while, Éponine laying her head on Enjolras’ shoulder as he snaked an arm around her, trying to flex his left foot as he did so and resting his hand against her bump. After a few moments of peaceful silence, Enjolras spoke.

“Do you want to get going now?” he asked her softly, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger absent-mindedly.

“Yeah, let’s go put some clothes on,” Éponine replied, going over to the edge of the bed and swinging her legs over the edge, sliding off the bed and trotting over to the closet to pick out some clothes. She was stubborn about wearing boots for as long as she could tug them onto her feet, delighted out of her mind about the fact that she happened to be one of a lucky few whose feet didn’t swell during pregnancy and she was still able to wear boots. Once she had pulled on her clothes, she grabbed her favourite pair of boots and trudged over to the edge of the bed to pull them on as Enjolras put his own clothes on. Once he had done so and was supporting himself with his crutches, Éponine went out to the living room closely followed by him to grab her trench coat and his burgundy peacoat off the hanger, helping him into his before putting her own on. The days were growing warmer and they no longer needed their full winter garb, much to Éponine’s delight; soon enough, they would no longer need any coats at all.

The sun was shining down upon the city, birds flitting about between trees and filling the air with the sound of their chirping. It wasn’t snowing anymore—the frequent blizzards had been traded out for thunderstorms, but Éponine didn’t mind them; on the contrary, she loved sleeping in Enjolras’ arms when thunder was crackling outside, flashes of blue lightning illuminating their bedroom through the window for split seconds at a time. Today, the sun was shining brightly, although Éponine didn’t doubt that it would rain later on during the day, if not at night. She linked her arm through Enjolras’, helping him along as she pressed her free hand to her bump, feeling Peanut moving around.

“Apparently Jehan did some research for us,” Éponine informed Enjolras brightly, seeming to forget about how shitty the past few weeks had been, what with her frequent vomiting and headaches as she pulled her phone out, pulling up the address of the store Jehan had recommended on her phone. “He found a store where we could go find cribs and shit.” Her smile morphing into a frown as something she hadn’t thought to think about hit her, she muttered, “I hope they aren’t too expensive…”

“Let’s hope they aren’t,” Enjolras replied quietly, looking at the address of the store on Éponine’s phone. “Shall we go?”

After a surprisingly quick subway ride, the pair got off in SoHo and Éponine wasted no time in going off on a search for the store Jehan had suggested, dragging Enjolras around in circles until she found the store she had been looking for. Looking it up and down and sizing it up, inspecting the window displays to see if this was what she was looking for, Éponine was soon pulling Enjolras into the store with her and she immediately went to the cribs on display, looking at them in interest as Enjolras trailed behind her, looking around at the store.

It was a completely new, foreign place—classical music was playing to create a calming atmosphere, the walls tinted blue, and the few customers filling the store were pleasantly speaking in their indoor voices with some of the shop assistants. Various items were on display—onesies, diapers, plushies, bottles, and some things neither Éponine nor Enjolras had ever heard of in their lives. _What the actual fuck is a nasal aspirator?_ Éponine thought to herself, making a funny face at the sight of some products labelled with such a name. Enjolras trailed after her as she looked at the various cribs on display, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Did you have anything particular in mind?” Enjolras asked quietly, catching up to her as she seemed to gravitate towards the convertible cribs, gazing rather longingly at a crib in a gorgeous shade of golden brown with a changing table attached to it.

“I really like this one,” Éponine murmured in response, trailing her finger along the wood. “It’s convertible, we’d be able to use it for years.” She looked around for a price tag, her dark eyes widening in alarm when she laid eyes on the price, the thought of buying it immediately vanishing from her mind. “What the hell? It’s so fucking expensive!”

Her words came out louder than she expected them to and she was met with shushing and some dirty looks from the other customers, causing her to shrink into herself at the unexpected patronising looks she received from the other people in the shop. “Christ, okay, I’ll shut up,” she muttered mostly to herself as she stayed by that expensive-ass golden-brown crib, finding that she had grown unfortunately attached to the idea of buying that crib for her and Enjolras’ darling Peanut despite the price. Enjolras went to stand by her, looking at the crib and not noticing how one of the shop girls approached them.

“Hi! May I help you?” she chirped, catching Éponine and Enjolras’ attention. She seemed just a bit younger than them—Éponine would guess she was around the age of twenty-one.

Éponine managed a dimpled smile, rather caught off-guard at being put on the spot. “We’re just looking for now.”

The shop girl’s hazel eyes fell to Éponine’s bump, which was rather obvious through her trench coat, and she asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, how far along are you?”

Éponine felt self-conscious all of a sudden, but the shop girl seemed genuine enough, judging by the sparkle in her eyes. “Twenty-six weeks,” Éponine told her, resting a hand against her bump. “It’s about time we looked for cribs, you know?”

The shop girl laughed. “Well, you two will have a gorgeous baby,” she told Éponine and Enjolras sincerely, having just noticed the latter for the first time. “If you need any help, just flag me down. I’m always happy to help.”

Éponine gave the shop girl a genuine smile this time as she moved on, seeking out the next customer who appeared to need some help. Enjolras went to stand by her as they gazed at the crib together, and Éponine knew well at this point that she was absolutely fucked—she had fallen completely in love with this crib and had her heart set on it and Peanut was going to have this crib, prices be damned. Linking her arm through Enjolras’, she leaned against him slightly and murmured, “I really love this crib, ’Jolras. I’d love it if Peanut could have this crib.” Feeling his lips press against her temple in a light kiss, she let out a sigh. “But it’s just so expensive. God, a baby’s going to be so expensive to care for.” She knew deep down that it would be worth it, though—she was determined to be the best mother she could ever be for Peanut and she wouldn’t care if she went broke in the process. She was set on working hard to help provide for Peanut, and once again, she found herself thinking about how grateful she was that Enjolras was there to navigate parenthood with her.

“If you really want it, we can buy it,” Enjolras told her.

Éponine pursed her lips. “But we still have a lot of other things to think about,” she pointed out. “We’ll have to pay the hospital bills when Peanut is born and we still haven’t thought about the rest of their nursery, and then there’s your leg.” Looking back at the crib, she murmured mostly to herself, “I’ll sleep on it.”

Enjolras nodded silently in agreement, beginning to form an idea in his head—if Éponine was so worried about not being able to afford the crib she clearly wanted for Peanut, he could always convince the others to chip in money to buy it for her as a gift. He knew that the others would be more than happy to do so, and the corner of his lip tugged upwards just slightly in a small half-smile at the thought of how Éponine would react if they presented her with this very crib at her baby shower.

Éponine soon moved on from the crib to look at the plushies and toys, a delighted grin on her face at how cute they all looked. A golden teddy bear that was almost an exact replica of the Pooh bear from the original books by A.A. Milne soon caught her eye and she darted up to it, Enjolras not far behind. Picking it up to inspect the price tag, she found that it wasn’t that expensive, and she immediately turned to Enjolras, her dark eyes alight with hope. “What do you think about a vintage Winnie the Pooh theme for the nursery?” she asked him, a dimpled smile breaking out on her face when his blue eyes lit up. “I was thinking of painting a mural on one wall and we could paint the other walls cream white or something. What do you think?”

“That’s a really great idea,” Enjolras told her, looking down at the teddy bear in Éponine’s hands before looking back up to gaze into her eyes with the most loving look on his face. “I actually had a Harry Potter theme in mind, or maybe Star Wars. I like your idea better, though.” He found himself smiling when she laughed at his words, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. “When should we start decorating?”

“When we actually get the crib,” Éponine deadpanned in response. “Or maybe before that, I want to get an early start. I think I’ll buy this teddy bear in advance. That okay with you?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Minutes later, they were walking out of the store arm in arm, Éponine clutching a fancy little bag containing the Pooh bear, a massive grin on her face. Enjolras noticed how she stared rather wistfully back at the store, undoubtedly longing for that terribly expensive crib she wanted so badly, and he resolved to contact the others about contributing money to buy the crib for her as a baby shower surprise as soon as they got home.

The two of them made their way to the subway, once again making their way to that familiar clinic, Éponine with a slight spring in her step as clouds steadily gathered above the city, blocking out most of the sunlight and casting shadows on the pavement. Once they had gotten off at their stop and had gotten to the clinic, Éponine checked in as she always did before she and Enjolras took their seats in the waiting room, stealing glances at the television mounted on the wall as his hand found its way into hers. They didn’t have to wait that long until they heard Éponine’s name being called.

They met Alison once again in the hallway, the woman having a big smile on her face as always. “Hi, Éponine, how have you been?” she asked gently, guiding her to a room to take her weight as Enjolras followed them.

“Honestly? I’ve felt kind of shitty in the past few weeks,” Éponine admitted, taking her boots off before getting on the scale. “I started throwing up again and I’ve been having the worst headaches. I thought the morning sickness was supposed to end towards the first trimester.”

Alison’s brow furrowed as Éponine described her symptoms, but she said nothing of it due to how unsure she was about it as she handed Éponine a cup. “I think I have an idea of what you might have, but we can’t be sure until Dr. Bourrienne sees you. We’ll need to take a urine test too. Would it be okay if we measured your blood pressure after? Just to be sure.”

“Uh, sure. Why not?” If it was going to help Dr. Bourrienne figure out what exactly was going on with Éponine, then she wasn’t going to complain. Taking the cup from Alison after sitting down to pull her boots on with slight difficulty, she trudged out of the room to the bathroom after handing off the bag containing the teddy bear to Enjolras.

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to pee into the cup without peeing on her fingers with her bump blocking her view, but for once, she managed, washing her hands clean once she was done and placing the cup where she usually placed it afterwards. Meeting Alison and Enjolras in the hallway where she had left them, the three went on to the exam room, where Alison took another blood test and measured her blood pressure. Éponine began to grow worried when Alison’s brow furrowed at the number, and she grabbed Enjolras’ hand, holding it tight for whatever news she was about to receive.

“Hmmm.” Alison clicked her tongue as she stared at the number, telling Éponine, “Your blood pressure is unusually high. I’ll call Dr. Bourrienne in so she can confirm some things.” With that, Alison detached the monitor from Éponine and trudged out of the room, presumably to get Dr. Bourrienne, leaving Éponine alone with Enjolras in the exam room.

She looked up at him, biting her lip. “High blood pressure? Is that bad?”

“It’s called hypertension,” Enjolras told her, rubbing circles into her palm when he sensed her growing panic to try to calm her down, pressing his lips to her temple in a firm kiss. “There’s medication for it, ’Ponine. It’ll be okay.” At least, he hoped so.

Their heads turned upon hearing a knock at the door and soon Dr. Bourrienne entered, her laptop in her arms as always. “Hello, Éponine, how have you been doing?” she greeted, sitting down and opening her laptop.

“I’ve felt awful for the past few weeks,” Éponine replied truthfully. “I started throwing up again a few weeks ago and I’ve been having these awful headaches that just won’t go away. Alison just checked my blood pressure, too—she says it’s high.” Swallowing and taking a deep breath, she asked, “Is there something wrong with me, Doc?”

“Hmmmm.” Dr. Bourrienne looked through Éponine’s file and bit her lip upon seeing the results of that last urine test, her brow furrowing in concern. “High blood pressure, did you say?”

Éponine nodded. “That’s what Alison told me when she measured it.”

After a few more moments in which Dr. Bourrienne typed up her symptoms and checked with Alison for the results of the urine test, the doctor sighed, making Éponine grow even more fearful. Before she could ask about it, Dr. Bourrienne suggested quietly, “Let’s do an ultrasound first.”

Éponine undid the button of her jeans and pulled her sweater up, taking the sheet Dr. Bourrienne handed her to cover herself with before taking Enjolras’ hand as Dr. Bourrienne spread the gel out on her bump. The grainy image of Peanut was soon filling the screen, and both Éponine and Enjolras had their eyes glued on the screen to see if anything was wrong.

“Peanut seems a bit small for twenty-six weeks,” Dr. Bourrienne told them, making Éponine’s stomach lurch at the unfortunate implications in the doctor’s statement. Taking out a doppler, Dr. Bourrienne ran it over Éponine’s stomach, the sound of Peanut’s heartbeat filling the room. Éponine felt an odd sense of relief upon hearing the sound of her baby’s heartbeat, as did Enjolras, although Dr. Bourrienne’s brow furrowed further as she inspected the screen. Éponine looked up at Enjolras, her face lined with worry as he squeezed her hand in an attempt at reassurance.

Once Éponine had wiped the gel off of her bump with the paper towels Dr. Bourrienne handed to her and buttoned up her jeans once again, Dr. Bourrienne told her, “I’ll need to check a few more things before I can be completely sure of your condition.”

“Con-condition?” Éponine asked, finding it hard to swallow all of a sudden. That didn’t sound good.

“Yes,” Dr. Bourrienne confirmed, a grim look in her eyes. “I’ll send for Alison to get you when I’ve finished looking over everything. I’ll meet you in my office when I do.”

Éponine pulled her coat on and she and Enjolras went back out to the waiting room, Éponine nearly dissolving into panic. “What’s going to happen, ’Jolras?” she asked in a whisper, turning her head to stare up at him through widened eyes. When his blue eyes found her brown, he saw that she had tears filling her eyes as she grew more panicked by the moment. “I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if anything happens to Peanut,” she whispered, frightened.

“’Ponine, no matter what happens, I’m here,” Enjolras reassured her quietly, his grip on her hand tightening as he squeezed it. “We’ll do whatever we can to make sure nothing bad happens to Peanut. Whatever it takes.” He felt his stomach tighten at the thought of something happening to their baby when they were both so emotionally attached already. Alison soon came and brought them to Dr. Bourrienne’s office, where they sat in silence, waiting.

The two of them looked up in tandem at the sound of the door opening. Dr. Bourrienne entered the room, subdued, with a grim look on her face as she sat down at her desk, sitting across from Éponine and Enjolras and letting out a sigh, rubbing her temple as a look that frighteningly resembled regret crossed her face for a split second before she composed herself.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doctor?” Enjolras asked anxiously, his hand finding Éponine’s as they prepared themselves for whatever was in store for them.

Dr. Bourrienne’s dark eyes found Éponine’s; the look on her face could only be described as regret. “Éponine, this may come as a shock, but it looks like you’ve developed preeclampsia.”

* * *

Éponine trudged up the steps to the apartment in silence, not even bothering to check if Enjolras was still close behind her. Feeling tears pricking at her eyes as she unlocked the front door and threw it open, she stepped inside the apartment without another word and waited until Enjolras was inside to close it and lock it, taking off her coat and hanging it up on the coat hanger by the door. Enjolras watched apprehensively as she pulled off her boots and placed them by the door, bowing her head and hiding her face from view.

Reaching out for her arm, he asked quietly, “’Ponine, is—”

“I need a nap.” Éponine pulled her arm away and began to stalk down the hallway, making her way to their bedroom and trying not to let the tears fall. The last thing she needed was for Enjolras to coddle her in her moment of pain and distress.

Rapidly taking off his own coat and his shoes, he caught up to her as quickly as he could with his crutches, asking again, “Do you want to talk about—”

“No, I don’t want to talk. I’m tired.” Éponine continued to make her way down the hallway, feeling as if the walls were closing in on her and feeling as if she had forgotten how to breathe properly.

Enjolras reached out for her arm again, asking in concern, “Éponine, are you—”

“I’m fine!” Éponine snapped in interruption, turning around to give him a teary-eyed death glare before she opened the door to their bedroom and slammed it in his face. Not wanting to anger her further, Enjolras pressed his ear to the door, his heart breaking at the sound of her quiet sobs, muffled by the wood. She sounded as if she was trying to stifle her sobs with her hand, breaking his heart even further, and he went back to sit in the living room, his head spinning from the information they had received from Dr. Bourrienne earlier.

She wasn’t fine.

He wasn’t fine.

How did everything come to this?

 _“Pre—pre_ what _?” Éponine asked, her voice trembling. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good at all, and she was anxious to find out as much as she could about what she was going through._

_“Preeclampsia,” Dr. Bourrienne repeated, her tone full of pity. “It’s also known as toxaemia. It’s one of the leading causes of premature births. It can prevent the placenta from receiving enough blood, which could be fatal to your baby. We don’t know what exactly causes it, but it tends to be more present in first-time pregnancies.”_

_Éponine felt her stomach tighten at Dr. Bourrienne’s words, finding it difficult to breathe as she attempted to process what Dr. Bourrienne had just told her. “Is—is Peanut going to be okay?” she choked out, feeling Enjolras’ hand squeezing hers._

_“I’m afraid the only cure would be delivery,” Dr. Bourrienne told her. “And I wouldn’t be able to induce labour, since your baby isn’t developed enough. However, your preeclampsia is quite mild as of right now—we can prescribe medicine to prevent it from getting worse, and we recommend lots of bed rest, either at home or in the hospital. If carefully monitored, we can prevent it from turning into eclampsia, which is essentially preeclampsia with the addition of seizures. I’ll try to schedule more frequent visits and ultrasounds, and I recommend that you check into the hospital for some time, just a few days, for closer monitoring. In the hospital, you might be given medicine to lower your blood pressure and prevent seizures, as well as steroid injections to help your Peanut’s lungs to develop quicker.”_

_Enjolras felt Éponine’s grip on his hand tighten, her face having gone pale. He could tell even without looking that she was on the verge of tears, with the way she was practically breaking his hand from how tight she was holding it. He felt like pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair as he told her that everything would be fine, but everything clearly wasn’t and he didn’t want to lie to his girlfriend. He loved her too much._

_“I’m sorry,” Dr. Bourrienne told them quietly, looking down at the desk to avert her gaze from how Éponine was starting to cry. This was the difficult side to her job, having to inform expecting parents of complications and watching them with a heavy heart as they break down upon receiving the news. “I’ll prescribe you some medicine that you can pick up with the ultrasound pictures at the front desk, and I recommend that you mostly rest on your left side. You shouldn’t be doing anything too strenuous in the next several weeks, just to be safe. I’d like to see you again in two weeks or so; April thirtieth would do.”_

_Éponine couldn’t form words and simply nodded, the massive lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. She was in a daze as Enjolras helped her to her feet and out of the office, feeling as if she was in a dream, a dream she desperately wanted to wake up from. All that was on her mind was their dear, sweet Peanut._

Peanut… I’m so sorry, baby, _she thought, her heart shattering as she choked on a sob._

Enjolras pulled his phone out to call Combeferre—on the way home, he and Éponine had quietly agreed on keeping the information from everyone else but Combeferre and maybe Joly so not to stress the rest of them out. After a couple of rings, Combeferre picked up the phone.

 _“Hello? Enjolras? What’s the matter?”_ Enjolras could hear Combeferre say at the other end, concern plain in his voice.

“Éponine is going through some… complications,” Enjolras replied, his voice barely above a whisper. At some point on the subway, he had felt Peanut kick and Éponine had told him that they were still kicking like normal, but he still couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to their baby. “The doctor said she has preeclampsia. It’s only mild, thank goodness, but she’s still so upset.” Feeling a single tear sliding down his cheek, he murmured, “She’s so emotionally attached already to the baby, ’Ferre. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to Peanut.”

He was met with silence at the other end for a few moments before he heard a quiet _“I’m so sorry, Enjolras.”_ And then, _“Do you want me to come over?”_

“No, she’s taking a nap right now and I don’t want to disturb her,” Enjolras responded quietly. “Just… please don’t tell anyone else, ’Ferre. She doesn’t want everyone else to stress out and coddle her over something we couldn’t have prevented. We’re considering maybe telling Joly, but nobody else, and if we do decide to tell him as well, just please let us do it.”

 _“Of course,”_ Combeferre replied in assurance. After a few more moments of silence, Enjolras remembered something and spoke again.

“Oh, yeah, ’Ponine really wants this one crib we looked at in a shop, but it’s really expensive, at least by her standards,” Enjolras told Combeferre. “It’s around four hundred dollars, I think. I’ll go back to the store at some point to check for the exact price. I was thinking of getting everyone to pool some money together so we could buy it for her as a gift and surprise her with it at the baby shower. I think it would cheer her up, especially with what just happened.”

 _“That’s a great idea,”_ Combeferre said, his tone of voice brightening considerably. _“I’m sure the others would be happy to do that for her. When is the baby shower?”_

“I don’t know, Cosette’s mostly in charge of planning it,” Enjolras replied, sheepish. “I’ll call her and ask her about it; I think we’re going to hold it some time after the wedding, probably the middle of June, since the wedding is at the end of May.”

 _“She’s due in July, isn’t she?”_ Combeferre enquired.

“Yes, July eleventh,” Enjolras confirmed. “I think the baby shower will be in June; I’ll call Cosette later to talk to her about it.”

 _“Most people don’t actually give birth on their due date,”_ Combeferre informed Enjolras. _“Just to let you know. She might be a few days early or a few days late, but it’s nothing to worry about. If she goes over one week past her due date, though, you might want to talk to the doctor about it.”_ After a burst of silence, Combeferre asked, _“Have you and Éponine thought about names yet?”_

“Yes, we’ve actually decided on two already,” Enjolras replied, glad for a distraction. “Victoire Gabrielle and Alexandre Hugo. ’Ponine wants Peanut to take my surname.”

 _“That’s not surprising, given her parentage,”_ Combeferre responded matter-of-factly. _“Those are beautiful names, Enjolras. You two are going to name the baby after you either way?”_

“Éponine insisted on it,” Enjolras explained, letting out a small, sheepish laugh. “It took us some time to decide on two names. Can you believe I suggested Liberté?”

 _“Knowing you, yes, I can,”_ Combeferre replied candidly; Enjolras could hear the smile in his voice. _“Anyway, I’ve got to go now; got some work to do. I’ll talk to you later when I can, okay?”_

“Okay,” Enjolras replied. “Bye.”

 _“Bye.”_ With that, Combeferre hung up, and Enjolras wasted no time in dialling up Cosette, who took longer to pick up than Combeferre did. When she did, Enjolras breathed out a sigh of relief to know that she wasn’t all swept up with wedding plans.

 _“Enjy? What’s up?”_ Cosette asked brightly, bubbly as ever, even when she was talking on the phone. _“How was the appointment?”_

“It went well,” Enjolras lied, not wishing to go against Éponine’s wishes and tell Cosette of her condition. “I was calling about the baby shower. How’s the planning going?”

 _“I have some vague ideas of what I want to do, but I’m really occupied with the wedding plans at the moment,”_ Cosette replied, her tone apologetic. _“I promise I’ll set aside some time to plan Eppy’s baby shower when things aren’t so hectic, though.”_

“Do you think mid-June would work?” Enjolras asked. “She’s due on July eleventh, and I think holding the baby shower about a month before would be good.”

 _“Oh, my goodness, yes!”_ Cosette agreed; Enjolras could just picture her bouncing up and down while holding the phone to her ear at the other end. _“How does June fifteenth sound?”_

“June fifteenth sounds perfect,” Enjolras responded. “Also, ’Ponine and I went to look at cribs earlier. There’s this one crib she really wants, but she says it’s too expensive, so I was thinking that we could get everyone to put some money towards buying it as a gift for her. We could surprise her with it at the baby shower.”

 _“Oh,_ yes _!”_ Cosette practically squealed, and Enjolras could just envision her jumping in pure joy. _“That’s so sweet, Enjolras, of course we will! I’m sure it won’t take much time to convince the others. I’ll tell the others about it and tell them not to tell her, and then if everything goes smoothly, we’ll be able to surprise her with it at the baby shower. What do you think about holding it at Jehan’s place?”_

“We’ve held everything at Jehan’s place in the past few months,” Enjolras replied dryly. “He _does_ have the biggest place out of all of us, though, so I don’t see why not. As long as he agrees to it, we’re good.”

 _“Oh, good!”_ Enjolras could actually hear the faint sounds of Cosette clapping her hands together at the other end and couldn’t help but smile; the petite blonde’s enthusiasm was infectious even over the phone. _“Okay, we’ll discuss it more later, but I have some wedding plans to attend to right now, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”_

“Bye,” Enjolras barely had time to say before Cosette hung up, leaving him to place his phone down on the coffee table before him. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV and went through the shows available on demand before deciding on season one of the Doctor Who revival series, choosing an episode at random and tuning out and not noticing how later, halfway through the episode, Éponine trudged into the living room, clutching the teddy bear of her high school days from Grantaire.

Finally noticing her after she had stood in the doorway for some time, Enjolras looked up and beckoned her over with a simple hand gesture, leading to her slowly dragging her feet along the wood floor before she took a seat beside him on the sofa, curling into him almost immediately once she had covered herself with a knitted wool blanket, a hand resting on her bump. The pain of that day’s appointment had been eased by Peanut’s frequent kicking, and she only hoped her condition wouldn’t become worse as her third trimester of pregnancy drew closer.

Enjolras already had an arm around her, stroking her hair gently as he murmured, “You okay?”

“No,” Éponine replied truthfully, letting out a long, dispirited sigh. “I just—I don’t know. I’m scared, ’Jolras. What if something happens to Peanut? What if no matter what happens, I get even worse? Is this—is this what I get for all the shit I did in the past?” She choked on a sob, her hand flying up to her mouth to stifle it as she sensed the oncoming tears. “Is this a sign that I’m not ready to be a mom?”

“’Ponine, don’t say that,” Enjolras whispered, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he rested his other hand against her bump, feeling slight movement. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, I’m sure of it. This isn’t your fault—it’s nobody’s fault, we’ll just have to look after you more carefully and you’ll have to rest more than you currently are. Just take care of yourself, Éponine—like Dr. Bourrienne said, stress could negatively affect Peanut, so please don’t stress yourself out further over this.” He buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair and kissed the top of her head once again, whispering, “You’re amazing, ’Ponine, and everything will turn out okay in the end.” He resisted the urge to add “I promise” at the end, knowing he shouldn’t make promises when he had no way of guaranteeing that he would end up keeping them or not.

Éponine managed a watery smile, lifting her head up to lean in and close the gap between them, her lips finding his in a soft, gentle kiss. He tenderly kissed her back, his fingers entangled in her hair as his other hand rested against her bump, feeling how Peanut kicked at the action. Once she pulled away, the two of them settled back in on the couch to watch Doctor Who, Éponine all curled up into Enjolras with her head resting on his shoulder as he laid his head against hers. After another three episodes, Éponine fell asleep right there on the couch, snoozing peacefully in the safety of her blanket and Enjolras’ embrace.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head upon realising she had fallen asleep, murmuring even though he knew she couldn’t hear him, “I love you.”

* * *

“Sebastian and Maddy actually agree on something for once!” Sonia reported to Éponine cheerfully one day after class, staying behind to talk to her. It had been one week and a half since Éponine’s last appointment and the days were considerably warmer now as she was nearing twenty-eight weeks, her third trimester drawing near. Likewise, Sonia was in her twenty-sixth week and she was absolutely glowing, having a sparkle in her green eyes as the days passed. Gone was the quiet, invisible girl; she had been replaced by a bright-eyed teenager, pregnant but determined not to let that destroy her future, and Éponine was delighted to see how much progress Sonia had made. She had overheard some other students giving her shit about being pregnant in high school, but after a stern reprimanding and the threat of being sent to Javert looming over them, many of them stopped doing so, and Éponine was heartened to see how intensely protective Sebastian and Maddy and Désirée were of the pregnant girl.

“Really?” Éponine leaned forward in her seat in interest; Sebastian and Maddy’s constant bickering was often a source of entertainment—as well as distraction—during classes, and she often wondered when they were going to get caught making out under the bleachers or in the bathroom or in some other odd place. To hear that they agreed on something came as a surprise to her.

“Désirée managed to get a video of it,” Sonia replied, grinning and taking her phone out, pulling up the video to show Éponine. It seemed to have been taken during lunch, and Sebastian and Maddy were oblivious to the camera, if the way they were staring in the opposite direction was any indication.

 _“Miss T’s been looking great lately,”_ Maddy remarked, and Éponine felt her cheeks burn at the realisation that what they were staring at was probably her and her bulging stomach. Continuing to watch, Éponine saw how Sebastian nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

 _“I know, right?”_ Sebastian responded, causing Maddy to look at him in surprise. _“Guess that pregnancy glow isn’t fake after all. No offence, Sonia,”_ he added after a few moments.

 _“None taken,”_ Éponine could hear Sonia say off-screen.

 _“If her baby’s anything like her, I bet they’ll be gorgeous,”_ Maddy commented, ignoring her terrible cafeteria sandwich. _“They’ll be a badass too.”_

 _“Hell fucking yeah, they will,”_ Sebastian agreed. _“And holy_ shit _, have you seen her baby daddy? They’re going to have one seriously attractive kid, with all those good genes to choose from.”_

Maddy let out a laugh just as the video came to an end and Éponine handed the phone back to Sonia, absolutely certain that a rosy blush was tingeing her cheeks. “So the one thing they agree on is me looking good?” she questioned, resisting a laugh at how absurd that sounded coming out of her mouth.

“Seems like it, yeah!” Sonia replied, cheerful. “I think they have a crush on you. Either that, or a crush on your boyfriend.” After a few moments of contemplation, she added thoughtfully, “Or maybe the both of you.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Éponine drawled, a dry edge to her voice. Despite the news of her condition, she didn’t let it keep herself from being as good of a teacher to her students, even if she was no longer able to scale trees in four-inch heeled boots to rescue a girl’s cat like she had once done prior to getting pregnant. Glancing at the clock, she told Sonia, “It looks like you should get going. You don’t want to be late for your next class.”

Following Éponine’s gaze, Sonia’s green eyes widened upon seeing the time and she hastily got to her feet, gathering her bags and beginning to make her way to the door. “See you tomorrow, Miss T!” she called over her shoulder before shutting the classroom door behind her, leaving Éponine alone in the studio. Sighing, she went over to the nearly-finished painting of Les Amis at Universal Studios that she was planning on hanging up in Peanut’s nursery once it was done, picking up her paintbrush and dipping it in paint before she put her headphones on and blocked out the noise from rest of the world.

The rest of the day passed by with no event and soon Éponine was walking home, her trench coat wrapped around her and her arms swinging at her sides as Peanut gave a kick from time to time. Enjolras had texted her earlier that day to tell her that he was going to be home later that evening, probably around seven or eight, so she saw no use in not going straight home. At some point on the subway ride, she had considered going back to that baby store to lust after that crib she had fallen completely in love with, but in the end, she knew it would just turn out to be pointless anyway—she wasn’t going to get that expensive-ass crib and would just have to settle for another one.

She was staring down at her feet as she made a turn onto her street, stepping through the puddles from that afternoon’s rain just to amuse herself. It wasn’t until she neared her house that she looked up, and her blood immediately ran cold at who she saw.

Standing at the bottom of the front steps to her apartment was none other than the notorious Aldrich Thénardier himself.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and the wolf himself enters the picture.
> 
> (for a visual, [this](https://truimg.toysrus.com/product/images/sorelle-vista-elite-4-in-1-convertible-crib-changer-vintage-frost--7EFF2DA6.zoom.jpg?fit=inside%7C1212.5:1212.5) is the crib i had in mind for the fic!!)


	16. Chapter XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little note: this fic is my first attempt at melodrama, so i hope it's at least halfway decent. i've done a _lot_ of research for this fic, but please understand that there are still bound to be inaccuracies, so i'll be claiming creative licence when it pertains to certain things. don't get me wrong, i certainly intend for this fic to be as accurate as possible, but first and foremost, it's meant to _entertain_ and evoke emotions in all you dear readers, so i would just like you to keep that in mind.

* * *

Éponine let out a near-inaudible gasp at the unexpected sight of her father standing in front of her apartment, her hand instinctively flying to her abdomen as if to protect Peanut from Thénardier’s leer. How the hell had he found her? Her footsteps growing increasingly hesitant as she cautiously approached her father, a distrustful look in her dark eyes, she asked bitingly, “What the hell are you doing here, Dad?” Her eyes widened just slightly at her own tone, taken aback by the venom in her own voice.

Thénardier let out a laugh, that awful, bone-chilling laugh that constantly haunted Éponine’s nightmares. “Can’t I just see my daughter after getting out of jail?”

“How the fuck do you even know where I _live_?” As she spoke the words, Éponine realised that she was _glad_ , in a strange, twisted way, that it seemed as if he hadn’t changed. It was so much easier to hate someone when one had a valid reason to.

“I have my ways,” Thénardier replied dismissively, brushing it off. His eyes raked over Éponine’s body and she tried not to shiver at the feeling of goosebumps erupting along her skin and the way her stomach was tightening as her father’s eyes trailed down to the curve of her stomach. “So you’ve got a bun in the oven, huh?” He laughed once again, saying, “I always knew you couldn’t keep your legs closed, little slut. No matter—you’re giving me my first grandchild, so thank you for that.”

“I’m not giving you shit, Dad,” Éponine told him, her voice sharp. Standing her ground, she pressed a protective hand against her bump, slightly reassured by the feeling of Peanut kicking. “Do whatever the hell you want, but you’re going to stay the fuck away from my child. No, I don’t give a shit if they ‘share your blood’ or whatever bullshit reason you’re going to come up with; they don’t need you in their life. _I_ don’t need you in my life. Get the fuck away from me, or I’ll—I’ll report you.” She knew damn well that she was just bluffing at this point, but she just wanted her father to get as far away from her as possible as soon as possible.

Thénardier laughed once again, that same menacing laugh, his beady, calculating eyes finding Éponine’s dark eyes as his lips twisted into a taunting grin. “Report me for what? Ruining your day?” He trailed his hand along the stone railing of the steps to Éponine and Enjolras’ apartment, looking up at the place and whistling in appreciation. “You’ve got a nice place here, dear. Who’s the poor bastard paying your rent? Oh, wait, let me guess—is he your kid’s dad too?”

“I’ll have you know that I pay my own rent, you asshole,” Éponine retorted. “And why would you just assume that I’m living with a man? Even if you still can’t accept it after all these years, _Dad_ —” she spat out the word as if it was something vile “—you know damn well that I’m bisexual, and I could very well be living with a woman or someone other than a man, for all you know. You don’t know me, and I’d rather it stayed that way.”

“That’s not the point,” Thénardier replied coolly, his tone of voice chilling Éponine to the bone and throwing her off even further. “Who’s the dad?”

Éponine averted her gaze, looking down at her bump as she gritted through clenched teeth, “My boyfriend. Full offence, but you lost your right to call me your daughter when you kicked my baby brother out of the house nearly ten years ago, so don’t you dare come anywhere near me. You have no right to know anything about my life and I’ll make sure Azelma and Gavroche stay far, far away from you so you can’t hurt them any more than you already have.” She knew she was taking a risk with the way she was speaking to her father, but she was damn well going to take advantage of the fact that he couldn’t do much about it due to still being on parole and tell him everything she had wanted to tell him over the years.

“Oh, who cares about them? They never meant anything to me.” Thénardier waved his hand about as if he was brushing it off, rolling his eyes. “You were always my favourite, you know.”

Éponine tensed up at his words, her eyes widening in suspicion. Knowing him, he was probably trying to manipulate her into agreeing with him as he had done when she was younger. “You have a funny way of showing it,” she spat, venom dripping from her tone. She refused to believe it—believing it would only lead to her having mixed feelings, and she was dealing with enough of that when it came to her mother.

“That boy of yours is probably only staying for the kid,” Thénardier told her, his tone frank. “That’s what I did.”

“No, he isn’t,” Éponine contradicted immediately, refusing to let doubt overcome her just because of some words her asshole father said. “He’s nothing like you, Dad. For one thing, he actually gives a shit about me.” Growing bolder, she continued, “He gives more than a shit about me, actually. He loves me, although I don’t think you’d recognise such a thing, seeing as it’s not something you’ve ever felt before.”

“Hmmmm.” Thénardier appeared disinterested, flicking some gravel off of the railing. “You can have your fun with him now, but just know that having kids ruins relationships. He’ll be all starry-eyed for your kid and he’ll forget all about you the moment he lays eyes on that little bundle of joy, just you wait. Even if he still ‘loves’ you—” Éponine didn’t fail to note how he made quotation marks with his fingers, making her blood boil “—after you two have this kid of yours, you’ll have no time for each other and you’ll drift apart and grow distant. Having kids ruins relationships, Éponine. We’re the same, you and I—no matter how much you try to distance yourself from me, you’ll always be a Thénardier. It’s in your blood.”

Éponine stood there in silence, trying not to let her horror show as she slowly processed his words. She wasn’t going to believe him—her father only ruined his relationship with her mother because they were terrible for each other, terrible people who brought out the worst in one another, and Peanut was _not_ going to ruin her relationship with Enjolras. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel fearful at the thought of their relationship disintegrating because of their baby. Even worse, she was terrified that he was right, that she would turn out just like him, and she felt as if her lungs had been stripped of oxygen at the thought of it.

“Get away from me, Dad,” Éponine managed to spit out after a few moments of silence. “Get the _fuck_ away from me. I don’t want you anywhere near me or Azelma or Gavroche, and I sure as hell never want you anywhere near my child.” Deciding to use his words from earlier to her own advantage, she told him, “If I really was your favourite, then show it to me now by doing the one thing I want you to do right now—just stay away from me and everyone I love. Walk away. That’s the one thing you have to do.” Standing her ground, she spat, “Go ahead. Do it. That’s all the proof I’ll ever need.”

After a few moments in which she just glared at him, refusing to back down when he looked her up and down once again, much like a vulture sizing up its prey, Thénardier sighed and clicked his tongue. “Well, I suppose that’s all I came to do. I’ll see you never.” Turning and starting to walk the other way, he stopped two apartments away and turned around to look straight at Éponine. “I wish you all the best.”

“No, you don’t,” Éponine replied automatically, having been expecting that. She didn’t care at this point if it really was a final peace offering before she and her father parted ways for the last time—she just wanted him permanently out of her life.

Shrugging dismissively as if to say “I tried”, Thénardier turned around again and walked off, disappearing from view as he rounded a corner, and Éponine finally felt as if she could breathe again, exhaling deeply before she trudged up the steps, taking the key out of her purse. Try as she might, she couldn’t get her father’s words out of her head—“Having kids ruins relationships.” Even worse, “He’ll be all starry-eyed for your kid and he’ll forget all about you the moment he lays eyes on that little bundle of joy, just you wait.” If that happened with her parents, could it happen to her and Enjolras?

No. She shouldn’t compare herself to her parents—what she had with Enjolras was so much more than what they had had a long time ago, and she knew for a fact that he loved her. Having Peanut was _not_ going to ruin their relationship, and she knew that he wouldn’t just blatantly ignore her in favour of their child. She shouldn’t be doubting his love for her when she knew for a fact that he had been in love with her for three years before he admitted everything to her, so why the hell was she beginning to have doubts anyway?

Fuck this. She needed a nap.

After waking up from a restless sleep two hours later, she took some of the meds Dr. Bourrienne had provided her with before trudging out into the kitchen draped in a blanket to grab some pickles and peanut butter out of the fridge—lately, her cravings had consisted of nothing but pickles and peanut butter. Carrying them back to the living room and making herself as comfortable as she could get with Peanut kicking her to pieces, taking a seat on the couch, and she lost herself to a world of Doctor Who and pickles dipped in peanut butter, barely acknowledging when Enjolras opened the front door and called out to her to announce his arrival.

Taking off his peacoat and kicking off his shoes to place by the door, he went into the living room and found her sitting on the couch in silence, wrapped up in a blanket and munching on pickles dipped in peanut butter. Cocking his head at her peculiar cravings, he went to sit by her, leaving some space between them to let her breathe.

“How was your day?” he asked softly, turning his head to gaze at her. “Have you taken your medication?”

“Eh.” Éponine took another bite out of a pickle, a pout on her face. She knew that she should tell him about her encounter with her father, but she wasn’t ready to bring that up to him, simply scooting closer to him and curling into him as he instinctively put an arm around her. “It was okay, I guess. And yeah, I have.”

Sensing that something was wrong, Enjolras pressed a kiss to the top of her head and didn’t push it further, knowing she would tell him in her own time. The two of them redirected their attention to Doctor Who, and they had watched another entire episode before Éponine spoke again.

“Enjolras.”

He let out a hum of acknowledgement upon hearing his name being spoken by Éponine, turning his head just slightly to gaze down at her. “Yes?”

“We’re not going to have much time for each other once Peanut is born,” she told him quietly, rather subdued. “We’re not going to have a lot of time for each other for a long time after this. You know that, right?”

Enjolras was caught off-guard by her words, having never spoken with her about such things before. Even still, he knew she was right. “Yes.”

“Can you promise me one thing? Please, ’Jolras, promise you won’t let that affect us,” Éponine requested. Her voice was calm and steady, but when her brown eyes found his blue, he could see the smallest hints of worry and fear slowly creeping into her dark gaze.

“’Ponine…” Enjolras was beginning to grow concerned, wondering what on earth had brought this on. Yes, what she was speaking was the truth, but he would never let themselves drift apart after the birth of their Peanut. He could tell her all he wanted that she didn’t need to worry, but he had a funny feeling that there would still be that look in her eyes, that look that made his heart break just a little. “What prompted this?”

Éponine raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that we’ve never talked about this before,” Enjolras clarified, his voice soft, gentle. “Surely something must have prompted this.”

Éponine sighed and broke his gaze, looking back at the TV screen. “I ran into my dad earlier,” she confessed quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Somehow he found out where we live and he tracked me down. He told me that having kids ruins relationships. He said it did for him.” Her voice beginning to quiver, she whispered, “I’ve heard the horror stories from other people too. They drift apart and have no time for intimacy, and some said they lost a part of what made their relationship healthy. I’m just—” Her voice was strangled as she choked on a sob, whispering almost inaudibly, “I’m scared of losing what we have, Enjolras. My dad hasn’t changed at all, not like my mom—he said you’ll—you’ll just—you’ll fall immediately in love with Peanut when you see them for the first time after they’re born and that you’ll…” Taking a deep breath in a weak attempt to compose herself, she muttered, “He said that you’ll just forget about me.”

She broke down in silent tears at the thought, curling into him and shielding her face from view as he took it all in, his blue eyes wide in shock. How could her father have said that to her? Wanting nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and whisper words of consolation into her ear until she believed him, even if that would take hours or days or the rest of their lives, he murmured, “’Ponine, how could you think that?”

“What if he’s right?” she sniffled, crying even harder and bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. “I’m not worth it, I’ll just turn out like my parents, I mean, I’ll always be a Thénardier no matter what, it’s in my blood, I’m just like my parents, I’ll—” She buried her face in her hand, trying desperately to muffle her sobs at the thought of not having Enjolras in her life.

She loved him so much. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Éponine.” Enjolras’ voice was much firmer this time and she looked up to gaze at him through tearful brown eyes. His blue eyes had gone soft as he gazed down at her, stroking her hair. He could see that she was still struggling to get past the abuse her parents had put her through, judging by the way she still wholeheartedly believed her father’s manipulative words, and he leaned in to press his lips to her forehead in a firm kiss. Drawing back, he murmured with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, “Do you really think if you were anything like your parents, I would have fallen in love with you?”

Éponine choked out a watery laugh, reassured by his words, if only slightly. “Promise me you won’t let having a kid affect us,” she whispered. “Please don’t let it ruin what we have.” Lowering her gaze, she breathed out, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” Enjolras promised, his other hand finding hers and squeezing it in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Yes, things will be different when we start raising Peanut, but that’s just the thing—we’ll raise Peanut _together_. We’re going to last, ’Ponine, we won’t let either of us lose our relationship. We’ll make time for each other, I promise. Spending more time apart because of the baby will just make us want to be near each other more, and we’ll appreciate the time we do get to spend together even more because of that.” He took her chin in his hand, gently lifting her head up so he would be gazing into her eyes, and he leaned down to kiss away the tears streaking her cheeks. “I know it’s hard, ’Ponine, but don’t believe a word your father said. Everything he told you today was wrong. It was all wrong. He’s always been wrong.”

Éponine laced her fingers through his just then, feeling him give her hand another squeeze and smiling feebly. “You won’t leave?” she asked, still fearful.

He leaned in to close the gap between them, his lips capturing hers and evoking a tiny gasp of surprise from her at the unexpected gesture, and soon enough, she was kissing him back, pulling her hand away from his to reach up and cup his jaw, her thumb resting against his jaw. He pressed the hand she had been holding to her bump, feeling how Peanut kicked as he pressed his lips to Éponine’s in a tender kiss, and once he pulled away, his heart soared at the tiny smile on her face. “Does that answer your question?”

She let out a quiet laugh and looked down into her lap, gazing at how his large hand was gently caressing her bump as Peanut kicked just hard enough for him to feel. “Hi, Peanut,” Enjolras whispered down to her bump at the feeling of them kicking, rubbing Éponine’s round belly and making her giggle through the remnants of her tears.

 _I love you,_ she thought, gazing at him as he spoke enthusiastically to her bump, his bright blue eyes alight with happiness. She had never regretted sleeping with him that night back in October, and she couldn’t help but think about how far they had come, how much he had come to mean to her over the course of the past six months. Of all the people she could have ended up with, the universe had guided her towards Enjolras, and she was infinitely grateful for that, even though she still sometimes caught herself thinking that she didn’t deserve him. _I love you so much._

She remembered the presents from her birthday that remained unopened in their bedroom, as well as the Christmas letter from months ago that she had tucked away in her journal, and she made a mental note to herself to open them all and go through them thoroughly at some point before her next appointment. She had been quite occupied in the past week or so, what with getting into the habit of regularly taking her meds and work and Gavroche’s eighteenth birthday, and she hadn’t had time to actually open the letter Enjolras had written for her and read what he had written.

For now, though, she simply contented herself to curl up in his arms as he rested his hand against her bump, the two of them content in each other’s presence as they watched Doctor Who.

* * *

Éponine’s fingers were tightly intertwined with Enjolras’ as she watched the screen for movement from their Peanut as Dr. Bourrienne spread the gel all over her swelling stomach with the transducer. She didn’t realise how she let out a soft sigh of relief at the sight of their Peanut moving around on-screen, having no idea what she had been expecting. She had been worrying a lot more about the state of Peanut ever since she found out about her complications, which she supposed was why it came as a relief to her to see the grainy image of Peanut moving around quite a bit on the screen.

“They’re getting big,” Enjolras remarked quietly, squeezing Éponine’s hand and letting out a yelp when she reached over with her other hand to smack him. “Hey! What the hell was that for?”

“I look like a _whale_ and it’s all your fucking fault,” Éponine growled in response, shooting him a glare so cold he flinched. She hadn’t been feeling great in the past week—she had finally had to give up her boots for the rest of her pregnancy and trade them out for Vans just a few days ago, much to her displeasure, and she just felt uncomfortable whenever Peanut was torturing her with frequent movement, kicking her insides to pieces and making it increasingly difficult for her to find a comfortable sleeping position.

Enjolras thought it would be best not to respond to that, simply squeezing her hand once more as they both fell silent and turned to Dr. Bourrienne, who was staring at the screen with a contemplative look in her dark eyes, the faint sounds of her clicking tongue providing the only noise in the room.

“You’re officially in your third trimester now, Éponine,” Dr. Bourrienne told her, her gaze still on the screen. “Peanut seems just fine for now, but just to be sure, I think you should check into a hospital for the next few days for closer monitoring.” When a look of dismay crossed Éponine’s face and she opened her mouth to protest, Dr. Bourrienne quickly continued, “It’ll just be for a few days, Éponine. We just want to be cautious and make sure there’s nothing wrong with your baby.”

“But…” Éponine pressed her lips together at the disappointing thought of not being able to accompany Cosette on her trip to the bridal boutique to pick out her wedding dress. She had been looking forward to a distraction, and now that had all been taken away from her. “Do I have to?”

“It’ll be four days at the most, probably less than that,” Dr. Bourrienne assured her. “I’m sorry, Éponine, but you _do_ want what’s best for your baby, don’t you?”

Éponine pouted, dismayed at having to cancel with Cosette as she murmured, “I guess I do.”

Enjolras squeezed her hand. “I’ll keep you company when I can.”

Éponine looked up at him, worry lining her face. “What will we tell the others? We said we weren’t going to tell them of this—this _thing_ , but if they find out I’ll be staying in the hospital, even if it’s just for a couple of days, they’ll worry about me anyway.”

Enjolras paused. He hadn’t thought about that. “We’ll have Combeferre come up with something,” he replied finally. “We’ll just tell them you need even more rest, since you’re in your third trimester now.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Éponine took the paper towels from Dr. Bourrienne to wipe off the gel on her stomach with in silence, sitting up once she was done and buttoning up her jeans before swinging her legs, awaiting Dr. Bourrienne’s next instructions. After some time, she closed her laptop and turned back to Éponine and Enjolras. “Your stay in the hospital won’t last any longer than four days,” she reassured Éponine once more. “You’ll be given medication to prevent seizures and such, and steroid injections to help your Peanut’s lungs develop quicker may be for the best.” Dr. Bourrienne smiled apologetically when Éponine winced at the thought despite knowing it was what was best for Peanut. “Your ultrasound photos will be available at the front desk as usual.”

On their way out, Éponine paused to take her phone out and text Cosette that she had to bail at the last minute, much to her own disappointment. The dress appointment was tomorrow and she had wanted so badly to be one of the first people to see her friend twirl around in her undoubtedly elaborate wedding gown, and she felt like she was flaking out on Cosette, feeling absolutely terrible for having to do so.

**me: cosette i’m so so so sorry but i can’t come to your appointment tomorrow**

Within moments, Cosette responded.

**sunshine girl: eppy what happened???**

**me: it’s nothing to worry about, it’s just that i’m in my third trimester rn and the doctor said i should rest more for a couple of days. i’ll be back in action in four days at the most, don’t worry about me**

**sunshine girl: well, if that’s the case, then okay. I’ll be sure to send you pictures though!! Feel better soon eppy**

Unaware of how her lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, she helped Enjolras along as they picked up the ultrasound pictures before exiting the clinic, breathing in the fresh spring air and taking in the sunshine. Sensing how subdued Éponine seemed to be, Enjolras took her hand and squeezed it.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low.

Éponine shrugged, rather resigned. Staying in the hospital for a couple of nights couldn’t possibly be that bad—she was just going to get treated for her condition and everything would be all right. At least, she hoped everything would be all right. She didn’t know if she would be able to live with herself if anything happened to her darling Peanut.

“I want a donut,” she replied finally, avoiding answering Enjolras’ question.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it. “Let’s go get ourselves some donuts, then.”

* * *

Staying in the hospital proved to be an absolute bore.

During the times Enjolras wasn’t there to talk to her and keep her company, Éponine had no choice but to either write even more letters to Peanut in her journal or keep refreshing the apps on her phone until she grew sick of it. She was certain at this point that she had written enough letters to Peanut to last them a lifetime.

Upon checking into the hospital, Éponine discovered that Dr. Bourrienne had been right in her assumptions—she was given steroid injections for Peanut’s lungs as well as medicine to lower her blood pressure. She had nearly fainted when she found out the doctors were to inject magnesium into her veins in order to try to prevent eclampsia-related seizures. After a mere few hours in the hospital, she had already begun to grow tired of how tedious everything was—the doctors kept a close eye on her, carefully observing Peanut with a foetal heart rate monitor. The only thing that kept her from completely losing it was the knowledge that this would all be over in a few days, that she could go back to sleeping in Enjolras’ arms in their bed instead of this unfamiliar hospital cot.

It was the third night now and Enjolras was there to keep her some company until the doctors kicked him out, sitting on the edge of the bed and grasping her hand. “How do you feel?” he asked in a low voice despite them being alone together in a private room.

Éponine pouted, absolutely fed up. There was just something about hospitals; she had always found it oddly unsettling that there were people whose lives were either just beginning or ending, and each day, it was always either the best or worst day of someone’s life, all under one roof. The atmosphere was rather cold and unwelcoming to her—she often felt as if the walls were closing in on her in the past two nights when she went to bed alone, sorely missing Enjolras’ warm embrace. “I just want out,” she muttered, looking down at the journal in her free hand. “I’m so sick of this place, ’Jolras, I miss our bed and sleeping next to you and hearing you already talking to Peanut when I wake up.”

The corners of Enjolras’ lips tugged up just slightly in a tiny smile at her words as he squeezed her hand before bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I talked to one of the doctors on my way in,” he told her quietly. “They said you’ll be able to leave the hospital tomorrow. They say you and Peanut seem healthy enough.”

“That’s good,” Éponine mumbled, unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds due to her mildly drowsy state.

Enjolras pressed his free hand to her bump, saying brightly to Peanut, “Did you hear that, baby? You and your mom will be out of the hospital soon! The doctors said you’re healthy, and your mom and I hope that it’s going to stay that way until you arrive.” He leaned down to press his lips to her bump in a soft kiss, whispering, “We can’t wait for you to get here, Peanut.”

Despite being in the midst of wallowing in self-pity, Éponine felt herself smile at how enthusiastic Enjolras seemed to be as he spoke to Peanut, earning himself quite a few kicks from the baby. “I love it when you do that,” she murmured to him as he sat back up, his hand still resting on her bump. “It’s kind of cute.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “‘Kind of’?” he asked lightly, his tone playful.

Éponine smacked him in the arm, albeit gently. “You know what I mean, you dork.” Glancing up at the dismal-looking clock on the wall, she told him, “They’re going to kick you out at any moment now, you know. I’m fine; I’ll see you tomorrow when they finally let me go.” She reluctantly let go of his hand, not wanting him to go just yet despite the fact that he had to. “I’ll be okay, Enjolras. Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.” Enjolras leaned in to press his lips to hers, tenderly kissing her goodbye, before he got to his feet, propping himself up with his crutches. He was just about to open his mouth to say something else before deciding against it, instead giving her a nod before he exited the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Éponine picked up her phone and looked back at the numerous pictures Cosette had sent her of her wearing her wedding dress, Éponine smiling to herself at the thought of the blonde angel walking down the aisle in it. It was gorgeous and intricate and suited Cosette perfectly—it was a strapless white ball gown with a sweetheart neckline, a chapel train, and a lovely belt consisting of delicate flowers wrapped around the waist, white chiffon layers of the skirt completing the look quite nicely. Throw in a diamond necklace, earrings, and a delicate crown of flowers in lieu of a veil, and Cosette was going to be the picture of sophisticated grace on her wedding day.

She was glad to discover that she really was content with the fact that Cosette was marrying Marius in a little less than a month, marvelling at how she had gotten over them after being infatuated with them for several months. Sure, Cosette’s laugh and Marius’ smile still made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it wasn’t from repressed feelings now, simply happiness at the knowledge that her friends were happy, and she really was okay with the fact that they would remain friends. After months of thinking she would never get over them and constantly wishing she could be something else besides friends with them, she now felt as if she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was looking forward to being a bridesmaid at their wedding despite dreading that she might attract attention due to her massive stomach.

She picked up her journal and opened it, jolting slightly when Enjolras’ letter from last Christmas fell out. She had forgotten that she had stowed the letter away in her journal; the baby brain really was getting to her.

Realising that this was her chance to finally read it, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper, her heart pounding in her chest as she unfolded it and began to read.

_Dear Éponine,_

_Merry Christmas. I was hoping you could use this camera to document the pregnancy as well as everything else going on in our lives. Maybe we could compile everything in a photo album for Peanut. I would love that._

_Let’s be real, though. That’s not the reason I wrote this letter._

_I wrote this letter to tell you everything I can’t work up the courage to say out loud—I love you, Éponine. I’ve loved you for three years now. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone else, although Feuilly came close, and it scares the shit out of me, it really does. I’m_ terrified _, Éponine. The moment I found out you were pregnant with my baby, I realised I was too far gone to even think about falling in love with anyone else. I could never possibly love anybody else the way I love you, especially after we found out about the baby._

_I may not show it, but I’m scared shitless. I really am. We’re so young—you just got a job with decent pay and I’m barely out of law school. On the bright side, we aren’t teenagers anymore, but it still feels like the world is so huge and we’ve barely met it. How are we supposed to take care of a child? I desperately don’t want my feelings to get in the way of our friendship and raising our Peanut. I’ll be okay if you never return my feelings. I’ll be okay, really. I promise._

_Okay, maybe not entirely okay, but your happiness means more to me than my silly feelings, however strong they may be. You’ve been through so much, so much more than what I’ve ever experienced, and I never want you to go through what you had to go through ever again. You never deserved any of it, Éponine. Nobody does, no matter how terrible they may be._

_I promise that no matter what, I’ll stick with you. I won’t care if you never feel about me the way I feel about you; we’re in this together. We’re going to raise Peanut together, unless you wish it to be otherwise. Just know that no matter what, I love you, Éponine, and I’m always going to be on your side._

_Love, your friend, Enjolras._

Éponine didn’t realise she had had tears welling up in her eyes as she read his thin, slanted cursive until a tear splashed onto the paper, soaking into it and making the ink bleed just slightly. Reaching up to wipe away her tears with the blanket of the hospital bed, she folded up the paper once again and tucked it away in her journal before placing a hand on her bump, rubbing it gently and feeling how Peanut kicked in response.

“Your daddy is so…” She let out a tearful laugh, reaching up with her other hand to stifle it as she searched for the words. “He’s just… he’s great, Peanut; I love him so, so, so much. He loves you so much, Peanut, and I hope you turn out to be like him—loving and not afraid to fight for what he believes in. He’s fantastic, Peanut. You’re going to love him.”

Peanut kicked once again as if agreeing with their mother and Éponine laughed, curling up on her left side and wrapping the blankets around her, losing herself to a dream-filled sleep.

* * *

Éponine sat in the middle of the completely bare room formerly known as her bedroom, looking around at the walls as sunlight streamed in through the window and trying to decide where to paint the mural and where to leave space for framed photographs and paintings, ignoring her phone after receiving approximately one hundred and twenty-seven unread texts from a very stressed Cosette. It was a sunny Saturday morning about two weeks into May and Éponine was thirty weeks along now, and at some point in the past week, she had decided that it was high time she got the nursery ready for Peanut despite not having a crib yet. She had wanted to look for cheaper cribs after coming to the disappointing conclusion that she wasn’t going to have that crib she was absolutely in love with for her Peanut, but Enjolras insisted that he had it all under control.

She was just about to get up before finding that she was unable to do so on her own, and she let out an exasperated huff and simply sat down in the middle of the room, gazing longingly at the buckets of paint and numerous brushes she had placed in a corner with the stepladder. She was absolutely itching to get her hands on those brushes and dip them in paint so she could paint a Winnie the Pooh mural on one wall for her Peanut. Those weird nesting urges had increased considerably in the past week and she just wanted to make everything perfect as her due date drew nearer.

Hearing the door opening behind her, Éponine turned around to see Enjolras entering the room. Two days prior, his doctor had finally given him the green light to get his cast off and he was walking on his own again, albeit with a slight, almost unnoticeable limp since the bone hasn’t healed completely yet. She jutted out her bottom lip much like a child would and reached out for him, whining in her baby voice, “Please help me up.”

Enjolras did as she requested, grabbing her wrists and helping her to her feet. “What are you thinking about?”

“I really want to see where we’ll be putting the crib so I can decide where to paint the mural,” Éponine mumbled in response, looking around the bare room and leaning against him. “God, my back fucking hurts. I just wish Peanut would come already.” Pouting, she looked down at her bump. “I can’t see half my feet anymore! Jesus fuck.” Looking up at Enjolras, she complained, “Why can’t we just get some cheap crib? I’m obviously not going to get that crib I really want, so why are we wasting time?” She just wanted to get the nursery ready for Peanut, damn it. The sooner she completed that task, the less stressed she’ll be, especially with Marius and Cosette’s upcoming wedding, which was to be in less than two weeks, and then almost immediately after, she was to have her baby shower.

“’Ponine, I told you, I’ve got that all under control,” Enjolras promised, squeezing her hand. “I was thinking we could put the crib near the corner over there, near the window.” He pointed at the corner to the right side of the window before pointing at the opposite corner, telling her, “And we could put a glider chair over there for nursing. Are you planning on breastfeeding Peanut?”

“Probably,” Éponine mumbled in response, burying her face in his shoulder. “Unless some shit happens and the doctors don’t think it’s safe to breastfeed them.” Letting out a groan at the mild pain in her back, she complained under her breath, “I’m so fucking tired, Enjolras. I just want to sleep for forty-two hours.”

He chose not to respond since she could become livid if he wasn’t careful with his words, instead kissing the top of her head and putting an arm around her. “Get some rest, then. We’re going to have a lot of sleepless nights once Peanut arrives.”

“Good idea,” Éponine mumbled, her words barely understandable with the way she slurred them together. Lifting her head up, she pressed a lazy kiss to Enjolras’ lips before dragging herself out of the room, a hand resting against her bump. Enjolras followed her out into the hallway and simply watched as she disappeared into their bedroom, and he thought about how big she was getting and how they only had ten weeks left now until it was time for Peanut to arrive. It felt like they still had a long way to go, but he knew that Peanut would come sooner than they expected, so he and Éponine had to be prepared.

Enjolras went to the kitchen and took out one of the many tubs of ice cream Éponine had bought when they went grocery shopping together a few days prior and decided that it couldn’t hurt to give himself a scoop, placing a scoop of chocolate fudge brownie in a small bowl and carrying himself to the living room, turning on the TV and turning on season two of _The Good Place_. Not long after he finished his small bowl of ice cream and watched two episodes, the doorbell rang.

Turning his head to look at the door curiously, Enjolras got up and pulled on his Hufflepuff sweatshirt from the trip the Amis took to Florida two winters ago before trudging over to the door. He opened it and furrowed his brow in bewilderment at the sight of a small, unfamiliar older woman standing on the doorstep, obvious apprehension and a certain sort of exhaustion all over her face. He thought he recognised some of her traits, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m sorry, but are you at the wrong apartment?” he asked, trying not to let his confusion show.

“I was wondering…” The woman trailed off, hesitant as she shrank into herself. “I was wondering if I could talk to my daughter.”

Enjolras’ blue eyes widened in surprise. So this was the Thérèse Thénardier he had heard so much about, often spoken of in bitter tones of voice while claps of thunder shook the apartment, lightning illuminating the skies outside. “She’s taking a nap right now,” Enjolras replied carefully, trying not to be hostile despite the fact that he was standing face to face with the woman who had caused the one he loved so much pain. The tired look in her dark eyes made him think twice about immediately launching into a long, angry rant about how much she had hurt his Éponine, so despite himself, he stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

Thérèse’s dark eyes widened slightly in shock as she hesitated for several moments on the doorstep, seeming to debate whether or not to accept his silent invitation and step inside, thus soiling her daughter’s home. After a couple of minutes had passed, Enjolras told her quietly, “It’s okay, just come inside.”

Thérèse entered with reluctant footsteps, standing there on the welcome mat and freezing up when Enjolras gestured for her to enter the living room. “I’m not going to be here for long,” she murmured, her voice barely audible and raspy, clearly roughened by years of drinking. Enjolras could smell the strong scent of nicotine on her breath and tried not to visibly make a face. “I just… I want to talk to my daughter, even if it’s only for a minute or two.”

“You really hurt her growing up,” Enjolras told Thérèse bluntly, although there was no malice in his tone. It was candid, matter-of-fact; he was simply telling it as it was.

Thérèse looked down at her feet. “I know I did,” she said, defeated. “I could never possibly make it up to her, not now; it’s too late. I just need to talk to her to clear some things up. I don’t care if she doesn’t forgive me—I know what I did to her was horrible and she didn't deserve that, and she’s allowed to be angry at me about it; it’s what I deserve. I just—I can’t live with the fact that I never even tried to apologise, so I want to do that right now. I don’t need her forgiveness; I just need to see her one last time and try to explain myself.” Letting out a deep sigh, she muttered, “Although what I did couldn’t be justified. I carried her for nine months and I gave birth to her, but I completely let her down in the end.”

Enjolras was quiet, at a total loss for words. This woman was infinitely different to the woman Éponine so often wept bitter tears about. He had no idea how to respond to her words.

Looking back up, Thérèse looked Enjolras up and down, sizing him up, and asked tentatively, “I’m sorry, but who are you, exactly? I didn’t expect to find someone else besides her opening the door. I had always thought she lived alone.” The sight of this young golden-haired man opening the door had served as another painful reminder of just how much she didn’t know her own daughter, and she sorely wished she could turn back time and do everything right this time around. Unfortunately, she herself had ruined her relationship with her children and it was nobody’s fault but hers.

“I’m Enjolras,” he replied, reaching out to shake her hand stiffly before retracting his hand. “Éponine's boyfriend.”

“Are you the father of her child, too?” Thérèse asked quietly, uncertainty lingering in her tone. When Enjolras’ blue eyes widened slightly in surprise, she quickly explained, “I’m sure she told you about how I ran into her at the grocery store just around the corner back in March. I noticed her bump.” After pausing for several moments, she gingerly asked, “How far along is she now?”

“Thirty weeks,” Enjolras informed her. “And yes, I’m the father.”

Thérèse broke eye contact once again, looking down at her shoes and twiddling her thumbs out of sheer nerves. “How is she doing?” she enquired at last, her voice soft.

“She’s good,” Enjolras replied. “She’s a completely different person from the girl I met back at the start of college, and she really has changed for the better.” Deciding that now would be a good time to tell Thérèse of how much she had missed while neglecting to properly raise her daughter, he started, “Mrs. Thénardier—”

“Thérèse,” she interjected. Enjolras didn’t fail to note the look of surprise that crossed her face at her own interruption. “It’s Thérèse.”

“Well, Thérèse, your daughter really is a wonderful woman, in spite of your parenting,” Enjolras told her, completely straightforward. “Éponine’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. I’m sorry if I’m being harsh, Thérèse, but you damaged her and completely screwed her up.”

Thérèse bowed her head in shame. “I know I did.”

“Even after all she endured, she’s still such a loving person,” Enjolras continued, beginning to grow more confident. “She’s really hurt by what you did, and she’s still trying to heal to this day.” Wringing his hands out of nerves, he went on, “I’m going to be blunt, so forgive me in advance. I don’t think you deserve Éponine as your daughter. She’s so different from what I’ve heard Thénardiers to be like before meeting her, and it was surprising to find out she has Thénardier blood running through her veins. She’s still hurting from what you and your husband put her and her siblings through, and to be frank, I don’t think any apologies could fix that. It’s too late now. She told me that you’ve given up your right to be called a grandmother, and from what she’s told me of you, I don’t blame her.” Taking a deep breath, Enjolras told Thérèse, “I’ve fallen in love with your daughter, Thérèse. I love her more than life itself and I swore to her that I wouldn’t let our child go through what she went through. In spite of all she went through, she still has so much love to give, and that’s just one of the many things I love about her. She’s so much more than what you give her credit for. I love her, more than anything in the world, and someday, if she’ll let me, I want to be able to call her my wife.”

“Did you really mean all that?” Enjolras’ head jerked up at the sound of Éponine’s shaky voice, catching sight of her standing in the doorway to the living room, trembling slightly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Almost forgetting that Thérèse was still in the room, Enjolras bolted to his feet and rushed over to Éponine, taking her into her arms as she burst into tears right there in the doorway, overwhelmed with emotion after hearing Enjolras’ heartfelt speech.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked her softly, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

“I heard enough,” Éponine replied, gazing up into his blue eyes through her tears. “Did you really mean that?”

Enjolras leaned in to tenderly kiss her forehead, murmuring, “Every word.”

Éponine mustered a watery smile as she gazed up into his blue eyes, overwhelmed by how much she loved him and attempting to stand on tiptoe to kiss him before she realised that her mother was still in the room. When she tensed up in his arms, Enjolras stepped aside to allow Éponine a full view of her mother. Shaking slightly, Éponine stepped forward with a hand resting protectively against her bump as Thérèse stood up, a million emotions flashing through her eyes in the span of five seconds.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Éponine’s voice was calm, but Enjolras could clearly see how badly she was shaking as she finally got the chance to confront her mother after all these years.

“I came…” Thérèse trailed off, biting her lip and looking down at her feet, avoiding her daughter’s hard gaze. “I’m here to apologise.” Looking back up and seeing how Éponine opened her mouth to respond, she hastily continued, “I don’t need you to forgive me. I just wanted to apologise for everything I’ve done, even though I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I put you through. I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry, Éponine, for everything I’ve done to you. Even though I said otherwise at the time, you never deserved any of it.” She turned around, hanging her head in regret as she began to make her way to the door, not even waiting for Éponine’s reaction.

“Wait.”

Thérèse turned around again, taken aback. Éponine stepped forward, inching closer to her mother but still keeping her distance, a hand against her bump. “I can’t forgive you for what you did, Mom,” she told Thérèse, her voice low and even. “It’s too late for that. I just wanted to clear some things up.” Inhaling sharply in an attempt to cool her head, Éponine told her mother, “I don’t want you anywhere near my child. They don’t need you in their life. I also never want Dad anywhere near me ever again, so if you could deliver the news to him, that would be great. I can’t speak for Azelma or Gavroche—they’re old enough to make their own choices, and if they want to contact you again at any point in their lives, I’ll let them do so. I don’t know if you’ve really changed or not, but if you have…” Éponine went over to one of the small tables by the sofa and took a pen and the stack of sticky notes by the phone, scribbling something on a sticky note and ripping it off before going back to her mother, handing the sticky note to her. “Here’s my email. I don’t think I can forgive you anytime soon—honestly, I’m not sure if I ever could, but I think you know that—but if you ever want to, you can reach out and maybe we can start anew. Maybe.” She knew she was taking a risk with this, but for some reason she just couldn’t understand, a tiny part of her longed to rebuild the relationship she had never had with her mother, and Thérèse seemed an entirely different person from the person she was before she was tossed into a jail cell.

Thérèse took the sticky note with wide eyes, shocked at what Éponine had just done. “I’m so sorry, Éponine,” she whispered, looking down at the bright yellow of the tiny square paper. “I don’t think you’ll turn out like me,” she breathed. “I hope you don’t.”

Thérèse hadn’t intended for Éponine to hear, but she did, and Éponine replied quietly, “I hope so too.”

Thérèse made her way back to the door, opening it and looking out the streets before turning back to glance at her daughter, biting her lip.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Éponine told her. It was a final peace offering of sorts—despite being unable to forgive her, Éponine was still willing to send her mother off with a proper goodbye.

Thérèse nodded in response and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. Éponine exhaled louder than she intended to upon hearing the click of the door closing, finally feeling as if she could breathe again with her mother out of the apartment, and she turned back to Enjolras, rushing into his arms. She clung tightly to him, pulling him as close as she could with her bump getting in the way, and he held her in his arms. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he whispered to her.

“No, I wanted to,” Éponine reassured him, looking up into his blue eyes and feeling that familiar lump forming in her throat upon remembering his words from earlier, the words he had spoken so earnestly to her mother, and she felt tears filling her eyes all over again. She tried to stand on tiptoe but failed to do so, what with Peanut weighing her down, and Enjolras got the hint pretty quickly and leaned down to capture her lips with his in a tender, heartfelt kiss, a kiss that conveyed everything that couldn’t possibly be put into words.

Outside, Thérèse was beginning to make her way down the street, just having reached the bottom of the front steps of her daughter’s apartment. She glanced back at the townhouse, catching a glimpse of her daughter through the window, feeling a pang in her heart at the sight of how much Éponine’s boyfriend seemed to adore her, with the way he was gazing at her as they eventually walked out of sight. She glanced down at the sticky note in her hand, refusing to allow herself to actually read the letters Éponine had scribbled out on the flimsy paper for fear of accidentally memorising it and having it haunt her memories for the rest of her life.

Thérèse knew she had a choice to make.

She crumpled up the sticky note, heading to the nearest garbage can and dropping the crumpled wad of paper into it.

This was the last way she could prove that, despite everything, she loved her daughter—by finally letting her go.

Feeling an odd sense of contentment overtake her, Thérèse looked back at the townhouse apartment her daughter was currently living in, the corner of her lip tugging up in the tiniest hint of a melancholy smile as she envisioned her daughter’s future. Éponine was in good hands—that heartfelt speech Enjolras had made earlier was proof enough of that, and she found herself wishing that she could have had someone to love her the way Enjolras so obviously loved Éponine back when she was her daughter’s age. She had the feeling that Éponine wouldn’t turn out like she had, not with that fierce glint in her dark eyes and the determination within her, and she was more than willing to stay away if that was what Éponine wanted. It was the least she could do for her daughter, especially after everything Thérèse and Aldrich Thénardier had put her through.

Gazing up at the endless cerulean skies, Thérèse continued to walk, taking in the sunshine, and for once, she didn’t look back.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, a chapter that actually wraps some things up! prepare for some Drama™ in the next couple of chapters ;) and that's all i'll be hinting at.


	17. Chapter XVII

* * *

Éponine glanced around at her surroundings, enchanted by the beauty that was Central Park in the springtime. She was standing alone, gazing out at the reservoir and rubbing her bump. She was dressed in her pale pink bridesmaid dress, wearing simple peep-toe flats made of pink satin underneath all the chiffon. It was the day of Marius and Cosette’s wedding and the wedding guests were just arriving and getting seated, escorted to their seats by the rest of Les Amis. Éponine had snuck off to steal some time for herself, just gazing at how Cherry Hill was in bloom all around her and feeling Peanut’s kicks as she smiled to herself, feeling completely content for the first time in what felt like ages, although the odd, occasionally patronising looks she was receiving from other guests dampened her mood. Sure, she felt guilty about forgetting to take her medication for her blood pressure in the last three days, but she was sure she could make up for that later that day by taking three at once.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice how Grantaire snuck up to her from behind until she felt a pair of familiar hands grab her shoulders, and she yelped, jumping and whirling around in an instant only to be greeted by the sight of Grantaire laughing his ass off, Toby on the grass in a leash. Éponine reached out and smacked Grantaire’s arm, only succeeding in making him laugh even harder, and so she patiently waited for his laughter to subside as he straightened back up, looking unabashedly at her bump.

“Well, aren’t you just glowing,” he drawled, looking at her bump. She was nearly thirty-two weeks along and her stomach was huge, much to her chagrin, and she hadn’t failed to notice how numerous guests she didn’t even know had eyed her with odd looks on their faces upon their arrivals.

“Please kill me,” Éponine grumbled, wincing when an older woman gave her a patronising look. “I hate how everyone’s just fucking staring at me. It’s supposed to be Marius and Cosette’s big day and I’m completely ruining it with my _massive_ stomach! I mean, just look at me! I look like a fucking _whale_!”

Éponine’s scowl was made even worse when Grantaire’s lips stretched out into a shit-eating grin, and she growled, “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I guess you could say you’re a… _bisexu-whale_ ,” he joked, drawing out the final word and making a “ba-dum-tss” sound effect with his mouth at the end before dissolving into another fit of hysterical laughter, unfazed by the glare Éponine gave him.

“It’s not funny!” she hissed, smacking his arm once again as Toby barked at his dad. “I’m drawing all the attention away from the happy couple with my massive stomach! I’ll forever be remembered as the pregnant bridesmaid now,” she bemoaned, wishing she could run her fingers through her hair in frustration as she typically did. Her deep brown hair was half up and pinned back, tastefully arranged into a half-updo with small pink camellias woven into her hair to match her dress and earrings.

“Aww, c’mon, it can’t be all that bad,” Grantaire tried to reason, picking up Toby in his arms and cooing at how cute the Yorkie looked in his little tux despite the fact that Grantaire may very well soil his own tuxedo simply from holding Toby. He flinched at the withering glare Éponine shot his way.

“Yes, it’s _that bad_ ,” she contradicted, letting out a tiny groan with a particularly harsh kick from Peanut. “You’re not the one who has a fucking human growing inside of them.” Her words earned her another hard kick from Peanut. “Argh! Jesus, Peanut, are you trying to kill me?”

“Can I feel it?” Grantaire asked, setting Toby down on the ground again and looping the end of Toby’s leash through his wrist. Éponine stepped closer to him and brought Grantaire’s free hand to her bump, pressing it against where Peanut was kicking the most, and his green eyes lit up at the feeling. Despite her sour mood, Éponine smiled at the look on Grantaire’s face, laughing softly to herself when he retracted his hand after several long moments.

“That’s still so cool,” Grantaire said in awe, looking at her round belly. “You really do look great, Ep.”

“I’m not _feeling_ so great,” Éponine mumbled, looking out at the guests. More and more of them were gradually filling the seats and soon enough the wedding would be starting. “There are little kids and moms I don’t even know staring at me. I think they think I’m too young to be having a kid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being young and being pregnant,” Grantaire pointed out, trying his best to be supportive despite the fact that he knew nothing about pregnancy.

Éponine scowled and pointed at the guests, who were all getting seated. “ _They_ don’t seem to think so.”

“Well, they don’t matter,” Grantaire told her frankly.

Éponine finally decided to change the course of the conversation, questioning, “How was the bachelor party?”

Grantaire winced at the memory, replying, “Eventful. Courf hired a stripper to jump out of the cake behind all our backs and poor Marius nearly had a heart attack. We all just got drunk as fuck except for Enj and ’Ferre, they were the responsible ones who were forced to take us home after we nearly blacked out from how many drinks we had.” He cackled at the memory of Marius’ face when he saw the stripper burst out of the cardboard cake. “Marius made this whole massive speech when he was drunk off his ass, it was hilarious. He was all like—” Grantaire assumed Marius’ posture, declaring in a terrible imitation of a drunken Marius, “‘For other men, they may say that their stag night is their last night of freedom! Well, those other men are _weak_ , this is my last night before the _greatest adventure of my entire life_! I _love_ Cosette and we’re going to have _so much fun_ together, just you wait! Goodbye to my last adventure, on to the next! Thank you and good night!’” He dissolved into laughter once again at the end of it, doubling over in laughter and causing Toby to bark in annoyance at how much his dad was shaking his leash. “And then he fell off the chair he was standing on.”

Éponine’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Did he really say that?” she asked once Grantaire had composed himself and straightened up.

“You get the idea,” Grantaire replied, smirking. “We spent a good portion of the bachelor party talking about how Enjy’s going to be a _dad_ , by the way. What about you? What did you and Cosette and Chetta and Zelma do last night?”

“It wasn’t much, we just hung out at Marius and Cosette’s place and watched _Mamma Mia!_ together,” Éponine replied, recalling how she had sat there and munched on popcorn smothered in peanut butter as Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma passed around a bottle of expensive dessert wine. It had been simple and peaceful and Cosette had loved it just the way it was, but Éponine still couldn’t help but think she had destroyed any original plans Cosette might have wanted to go with for her bachelorette night due to being pregnant. “Cosette, Chetta, and Zel got wine drunk and I just sat there with my massive stomach getting in the way of _everything_.” She looked down at her bump, frowning to herself. “I’m pretty sure I ruined Cosette’s idea of a perfect bachelorette party after I went and got myself knocked up.”

“Well, _I’m_ pretty sure she loved it,” Grantaire contradicted, looking around and finding that Cosette was nowhere in sight. She was probably still getting ready. “Éponine, how many times do we have to tell you? We’re supporting you through this no matter what. We’ll help you and Enj out with the kid.”

Éponine smiled up at him, willing herself not to cry and ruin her makeup. Christ, her raging hormones were going to be the death of her one day. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but you look great today,” she complimented, laughing at how Grantaire’s cheeks turned pink. He was wearing a midnight-blue tuxedo that Marius had picked out for the groomsmen to wear, a boutonnière pinned on the lapel of his tux. He seemed to have made little effort to tame his black curls, choosing to leave them as they were, and surprisingly enough, it worked. Marius and Cosette had insisted on all of the Amis being in the wedding as groomsmen and bridesmaids, and as a result, Grantaire was to be walking down the aisle with Jehan; he seemed quite satisfied with that arrangement. Éponine was to be making her way down with Enjolras; apparently Marius and Cosette had arranged for that to happen before the two of them even got together.

Just then, Marius bounded up to them in his perfectly pressed tuxedo, a distressed look in his green eyes. “Azelma and Courfeyrac are fighting again,” he told Éponine and Grantaire, breathing heavily, his freckled face having gone red, redder than his ginger locks.

“Well, who would have thought?” Éponine commented sarcastically, rolling her eyes and turning to search for Azelma. She was talking to Gavroche and pointedly ignoring Courfeyrac, who was a mere eight feet away from the siblings. “Those two just can’t get their fucking shit together.”

“Eppy, I don’t want my wedding to be ruined,” Marius told her anxiously, shifting from one foot to the other repeatedly and running his fingers through his ginger quiff. “What if they end up fighting at the reception?”

“I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” Éponine assured him, giving Azelma an incredulous look from afar. “Just… you handle Courf. He _is_ your best man, after all.”

Marius nodded vigorously and darted off again, leaving Éponine alone once more with Grantaire and Toby. Grantaire bent down to pick Toby up once again before straightening up, a smirk on his face. “And to think you used to have the biggest crush on him back in college up until recently,” he teased.

Éponine turned pink and smacked him in the arm. “Fuck off, that’s all in the past now. Besides, now I have something a million times better.” She turned her head to gaze at Enjolras, who was helping guests find their seats with the smallest hint of a gracious smile on his face. God, he looked beautiful in that tux. As if sensing what their mom was thinking about, Peanut gave another kick, evoking a tiny laugh from Éponine as she gazed at Enjolras, her head tilted just slightly.

Grantaire followed Éponine’s gaze and he smiled, Toby letting out a quiet bark from his arms. “You really love him, don’t you?” he murmured, turning his head to look at the way Éponine was gazing at Enjolras.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice having gone soft. “Yeah, I really do.”

“You two will be great parents,” he told her; Éponine was surprised to hear that rare tone of sincerity in Grantaire’s voice. “He loves you a lot, Ep. You should’ve heard the way he talked about you last night.”

Éponine’s breath hitched. “What did he say?”

“I mentioned how we were talking about how he’s going to be a dad, right?” Éponine nodded in response. Grantaire told her, “He just started talking about how great you are and how you’re going to be a fantastic mom, even with all the shit you’ve been through. He was just rambling on and on about how much he loves you and how he never expected you to love him back, y’know? It was adorable.” He smiled at the amazed look on Éponine’s face. “You didn’t know? Doesn’t he tell you how much he loves you all the time?”

Éponine’s brow furrowed as she thought of it. “Come to think of it, he never actually says ‘I love you’, not to my face. At least, not since his birthday night, when… yeah.” She gestured towards her bulging stomach. “I guess he has a reason behind it,” she added after a few moments of silence. “I mean, when I remembered that he told me that on his birthday night, I completely freaked out and ran off for a week, so maybe he’s just scared of that happening again.”

A look of concern crossed Grantaire’s face for just a millisecond before he composed himself, shaking some thoughts out of his head. What he had failed to mention was how before they all got drunk off their asses, Enjolras had spoken to them about everyone pooling some money together to buy a crib for Peanut that Éponine really wanted and surprising her with it at her baby shower, which was to be in a couple of weeks at Jehan’s place. Everyone had immediately agreed and they had all given Enjolras some money for it and he had said he had enough money, having gotten some from Combeferre, Gavroche, Azelma, Musichetta, and Cosette already, and he had said he was going to be buying the crib first thing tomorrow. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Éponine’s face when she received the crib.

Éponine let out a soft groan and her hand flew to her forehead, rubbing her temple at the sharp pain that went shooting through her temple. It was gone as quickly as it had come and she wondered if that had really been actual pain or just a figment of her imagination. “You okay?” she heard Grantaire ask, and she turned her head to look up at him. Both he and Toby were looking at her expectantly, awaiting an answer.

Éponine nodded a bit too hastily. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied in assurance. “A little bit of a headache, but I’ll be fine by the reception, I’m sure.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows, not seeming too convinced, but he said nothing of it, not wanting to send her into a rage. Toby, on the other hand, made his doubts known with a loud bark, but Éponine simply patted his little head in response.

Soon, all the wedding guests and the marriage officiant had arrived, and soon enough, Éponine found herself waiting with Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma at the end of the aisle for Enjolras and the rest of the groomsmen to finish ushering the remaining guests to their seats. The blonde looked absolutely radiant in her white gown and golden locks, which had been twisted up into an updo, a small crown of white flowers upon her head. She was clutching a mixed bouquet in her small hands and waiting for her father to stop talking with Javert so he could escort her down the aisle.

“Cosette, I’m so sorry,” Éponine muttered under her breath, just loud enough for the bride to hear.

Cosette cocked her head questioningly. “What could you be sorry for?”

“Ruining your bachelorette night,” Éponine replied as if it was obvious, looking down at the small bouquet of pale pink roses she was holding in her hands. “I know you probably wanted some wild party but you had to cancel all those plans after I got pregnant because I wouldn’t be able to do over half the things you wanted to do and—”

“Eppy, _stop_.” Éponine looked up at Cosette’s interjection, surprised at the odd sort of fierceness in the blonde’s blue eyes. Cosette looked her straight in the eye, telling her, “You didn’t ruin anything. I really did love how last night turned out, I never wanted some wild bachelorette party where we all get drunk and end up doing things we would probably regret the next morning. _Please_ stop blaming yourself, Eppy.”

“But I’m ruining your wedding right now,” Éponine pointed out, gesturing at the few people who were staring at her massive bump. “All the attention’s supposed to be on you, it’s _your_ wedding day, but I’m stealing it all away because I look like a _whale_. I’m forever going to be known to them as the pregnant bridesmaid now.”

“Eppy, you do _not_ look like a whale,” Cosette contradicted fiercely. “And most of them are Marius’ stuffy relatives that his granddad made him invite. Who cares what they think about you being pregnant? That’s their problem.”

Just then, Mr. Fauchelevent approached Cosette and took her arm, glancing at Éponine and smiling at her. “You look lovely, Éponine,” he told her sincerely, his gaze falling to the curve of her stomach. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

The corner of Éponine’s lips quirked up in the smallest hopeful smile as she asked, “You really think so, sir?”

“Considering how you turned out despite being raised by the parents you had, I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” Mr. Fauchelevent replied, his tone frank. “Philippe over there was just telling me about how you’ve been doing at work,” he told her, gesturing towards Javert, who was seated at the front. Éponine often forgot he had an actual first name. “You’ve been doing great, Éponine. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Thanks, Mr. Fauchelevent,” Éponine replied, biting her lip to keep herself from grinning at the older man’s words.

Éponine soon found herself clutching her small bouquet in one hand, her other arm looped through Enjolras’, and she gazed up at him as they waited for the wedding to really start. “How’ve you been doing?” she asked amicably, grinning up at him and resisting a laugh when he blushed.

“Everything seems to be going great so far,” he responded, “if you don’t count the fact that Courfeyrac and your sister are fighting again.”

“Ugh, remind me to talk to her about that later,” Éponine told him, making a face. “They’re really fucking up their relationship, it’s worrying me.”

“I think we should worry about getting through this wedding first before we worry about that,” Enjolras suggested in a low voice as the band struck up a gentle rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” in lieu of the traditional wedding march. Falling silent, he and Éponine began to make their way down the aisle, arm in arm, heads held high. Éponine could feel all eyes on her—more accurately, her bump—and she instinctively moved closer to Enjolras, trying desperately to ignore all those who were sending her bump stone-cold stares.

“Don’t think about them, ’Ponine,” she heard Enjolras whisper, his voice just audible enough for her to hear. “Just focus on me.”

Éponine gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head and continued on down the aisle with Enjolras, her head held high as she ignored the stares as best as she could. Once they reached the wooden arch decked out with flowers under which Marius, Courfeyrac, and the marriage officiant were standing, they went the opposite ways as they waited for everyone else to walk down the aisle. Soon enough, Musichetta was making her entrance as maid of honour and soon everyone rose for the bride.

Éponine rested one hand against her bump as she tilted her head just slightly as Cosette walked down the aisle, a smile on her face as she clutched her bouquet in one hand, her other hand in the crook of her father’s elbow. Éponine was thankful that everyone’s eyes was now on the blushing bride and not on her bump as Cosette practically glided down the aisle, the absolute picture of sophisticated grace.

She heard sniffling and looked over to find Marius dabbing at his eyes with a lace handkerchief and she resisted a chuckle at the sight of how sentimental the groom was. Looking to Marius’ side, she noticed how Jehan was silently dabbing at his eyes as well, the other men having smiles on their faces as Cosette reached Marius and Mr. Fauchelevent went to sit down in the front row. Éponine felt Peanut kicking as the officiant began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

* * *

Éponine stood with Azelma, Musichetta, and Cosette for photographs as the guests made their way to the Loeb Boathouse for the reception. She sensed the beginnings of a headache coming on but ignored it, telling herself it was nothing as she beamed with the other women, giving the camera her best dimpled smile as she clutched her small bouquet. The day really was absolutely perfect—it seemed that the stars had aligned to give Marius and Cosette, the kindest, sweetest people on the planet, their perfect dream springtime wedding, with the sun shining down upon Central Park and the flowers in bloom all around them, birds chirping from the treetops. Nearby, Marius and the rest of Les Amis were getting their photographs taken, and soon enough, all of them gathered for a group photograph, enormous smiles on their faces with the bride and groom standing in the centre. Éponine stood beside Enjolras for the group pictures, their arms around each other’s waist, Enjolras’ hand resting against Éponine’s bump as they smiled for the camera.

Once the billion photographs of the bridal party had all been taken, they all began to make their way to the boathouse for the reception, laughter and chatter ringing out through the air. Éponine leaned into Enjolras as they walked arm in arm, laughing at something Grantaire said and missing the soft, adoring look Enjolras gave her at the laughing smile on her face. The bride and groom had the honour of entering first as the rest of the bridal party filtered in, smiles on their faces as the guests cheered for their arrival. Marius and Cosette made their way to their table as the bar opened, caterers beginning to serve the starters as the bridal party got seated at their tables surrounding the newlyweds.

Éponine took a seat next to Enjolras at the table adjacent to Marius and Cosette’s, Grantaire taking the seat on the other side of Éponine with Toby in his arms as he finished his glass of champagne in a single gulp, much to Éponine’s incredulity. Opting to ignore it, she moved her chair closer to Enjolras’ to rest her head on his shoulder, feeling his arm snake around her waist so his hand could rest against her bump as Peanut gave a soft kick.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but you look beautiful today,” Enjolras whispered to her as he gently caressed her bump. “Not that you don’t always do.”

Éponine bowed her head and smiled to herself at his words, feeling her cheeks flush pink as the guests ate their starters. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, her hand resting on top of his as Peanut kicked again. He simply smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head in response. She felt a dull throbbing in the back of her head but dismissed it as a typical headache, watching the other guests as they finished their starters one by one.

Soon, all the starters had been cleared and the MC had gotten to his feet to speak, attracting everyone’s attention. Éponine and Enjolras’ heads turned in tandem to look at the MC, the two of them having been feeling her bump for Peanut’s kicks and chatting between themselves about their baby and their future together. The MC was a redheaded man Éponine had never seen before; she assumed he was one of Marius’ numerous cousins, judging by the similarities in appearance.

“Thanks for coming, everyone!” he greeted, a smile on his face. “I’d just like to raise a toast to the happy couple!” He raised his champagne glass in the newlyweds’ direction as nearly all the other guests followed suit, announcing into the mic, “Here’s to Marius and Cosette!”

“To Marius and Cosette!” the guests cheered, raising their glasses to the newlyweds. Éponine raised her glass of water, a smile on her face as she glanced at the beaming couple, wondering if she would ever get to have this kind of big white wedding before she caught herself.

“I’d like to call up Adrien Courfeyrac, the best man, to make his speech,” the MC announced, and everyone clapped politely as Courfeyrac got to his feet and darted up onto the platform the MC was standing on and grabbed the microphone from him without so much as a polite request, bouncing on the balls of his feet and absolutely radiating energy. Éponine rolled her eyes good-naturedly as the applause died down just enough for Courfeyrac to begin speaking.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone who was part of the bridal party who worked so hard to help make all this happen,” Courfeyrac began, gesturing towards the tables Les Amis were seated at and grinning as he was met with whoops and cheers from all of them. “We’re all so happy for the happy couple! Marius and Cosette! You two almost make me believe in love again!” He then shot Azelma a glare, his tone taking a considerably more jaded turn as he went on, “Notice how I said almost. Yes, true love exists, but only for certain people, such as these two newlyweds right here, but most of the time, relationships come to a nasty end and—”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Éponine muttered under her breath, her dark eyes widening in alarm at how Courfeyrac was _completely_ ruining the light mood. She glanced over at Marius and Cosette and noticed that they had both gone white at the mere thought of their wedding reception being ruined simply because Courfeyrac had fucked up his own love life and was taking it out on them all, and Éponine pulled her hand away from Enjolras’ and got to her feet, determined to take matters into her own hands.

She marched up onto the platform and snatched the microphone away from Courfeyrac mid-sentence, saying hastily, “Hi, everyone! You may not know me, but I’m Éponine, one of Cosette’s bridesmaids.” She didn’t fail to take note of how the guests seemed stunned at the blatant interruption of Courfeyrac’s speech, which had been steadily spiralling downward, by a seemingly random pregnant bridesmaid, but Éponine continued nonetheless, going on, “I’d just like to take the time to appreciate Marius and Cosette. They’re honestly the sweetest, kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever had the fortune to meet, and they deserve everything good in life and I hope their life as a married couple will treat them well. It’s honestly amazing to see how much they love each other and how they aren’t ashamed of showing it when out in public; it’s rare to find that kind of love these days. I really do wish them all the best in life, so here’s to Marius and Cosette!” At the cheering that followed, Éponine grinned and called out, “‘Seek happy nights to happy days!’”

The guests had all turned to look at Marius and Cosette, applauding them and cheering, and Courfeyrac took advantage of that and grabbed Éponine’s wrist, pulling her closer to him and hissing under his breath, “Hey, what the fuck? I had this whole speech planned!”

“You were about to ruin the reception,” Éponine replied bluntly, staring back at him through fiery brown eyes. “Don’t fucking lie to me—you were about to go off on a rant about how love was fake and how Marius and Cosette are two of the lucky few who actually get to experience true love and make everyone else uncomfortable because of it. Just because you fucked up your own love life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on your best friend, and on his fucking _wedding day_ at that.” She sighed, her hand going up to her temple to rub circles into it at the headache she thought was coming on as she muttered, “Just let Marius and Cosette have this one day, their one perfect day without anything to worry about. It’s the least you could do for them. You can rant as much as you please starting tomorrow.” She placed the microphone back on the mic stand before turning around to walk off the platform, leaving Courfeyrac standing there slack-jawed, completely dumbfounded.

Éponine took her seat next to Enjolras once she reached their table, giving Grantaire a curious look as she did so—the brunet was talking animatedly to Toby with the Yorkie giving sporadic barks in response. She settled back in her seat, leaning against Enjolras and letting out a deep sigh as she felt his arm slowly move around her waist once again, his hand settling against her bump. “What did you say to him?” she heard Enjolras ask her, his voice low so the others at the table wouldn’t hear.

“Just a few choice words,” Éponine replied, rolling her eyes. “Jesus fuck, he was about to make everyone uncomfortable by talking about how love is fake just because he’s bitter about what happened with him and Zelma again. Speaking of Zel…” Éponine looked around the room and glimpsed a familiar head of fiery auburn hair at the buffet table. “I’ll have to talk to her too about that. Want to get some food?”

“You can go first, if you want to talk to Azelma alone,” Enjolras told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she straightened up and got to her feet, stumbling slightly due to the slight pain in her back from Peanut before she composed herself and went over to the buffet, grabbing a plate and beginning to fill it up with any food that appealed to her senses as she inched closer to an oblivious Azelma.

Éponine had just opened her mouth to speak before Azelma snapped, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Éponine retorted, dumping pasta and roasted potatoes onto her plate as she followed Azelma along the line.

Azelma dumped lasagne onto her plate before turning around to face her sister, a hard look in her hazel eyes. “Let me guess—you were about to lecture me about ruining things with Courf for the second time,” she surmised flatly, not looking at all surprised as Éponine’s lips formed a small, rather outraged ‘O’. “Whatever. I don’t want to hear it. If I had wanted a lecture about how I shouldn’t be so reckless in relationships, I would have asked. I don’t need you to get on my back about this shit when I have so much going on already, Jesus fuck.” Azelma’s voice cracked at the last word and she immediately reached up with one hand to furiously wipe away her tears, moving on to the next foods being served.

Taken aback by the pain in Azelma’s voice, Éponine relented, muttering, “Okay, fine, I won’t lecture you.” After taking the time to dump some mashed potatoes and gravy onto her already loaded plate, she added, “But you two really should sort things out. You like each other. I know you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Éponine, I _really_ don’t want to talk about this,” Azelma snapped, turning around to shoot her sister a glare before stomping back to her table with her plate of food in her hands and taking a seat with Gavroche, Bahorel, and Feuilly, leaving Éponine standing there with a look of disappointment in her eyes. She was just beginning to make her way back to her table when she felt that same odd pounding in her head, gone as quick as it came, and she stopped in her tracks for a split second before dismissing it as a figment of her imagination and going back to take her seat by Enjolras.

Noticing the dejected look on Éponine’s face as she shovelled a spoonful of mashed potato into her mouth, Enjolras asked sympathetically, “No luck?”

Éponine shook her head. “They’re both so fucking stubborn,” she muttered, mostly to herself, as she wound pasta around her fork and shoved that into her mouth. “That shit would only lead to disaster.”

She brought her chair closer to Enjolras’ and pouted as she laid her head on his shoulder, angry at herself for being unable to fix the whole Courfeyrac and Azelma debacle. She knew her anger was irrational—she was just meddling and she should probably just leave them to sort out their differences on their own, but she knew that if she did that, it would take them a lot longer to resolve the tension between them. She just wanted her baby sister to be happy, and she knew that Courfeyrac made Azelma happy. Why couldn’t either of them see that?

Enjolras’ arm was around her once again, hand resting against her bump as always as Peanut kicked as if sensing their father’s touch. “Éponine, maybe you should stop trying to interfere,” he suggested carefully, prudent about keeping his tone neutral so he wouldn’t send her flying into a rage. “I think what’s going on between them is beyond any of our help; only they could resolve things between them. Just give them time, ’Ponine.”

He held his breath as he awaited her answer, beginning to develop a plan to calm her down with all possible reactions in mind. Éponine picked her head up and gazed into his blue eyes, narrowing her dark eyes just slightly as she murmured in response, “I guess I should. Too bad I’m an impatient bitch. But I’ll try.”

Enjolras gave her a serene smile, relieved that she hadn’t overreacted as she tended to do whenever he said something potentially offensive to her. “That’s my girl.”

He smiled even more at how Éponine’s cheeks flushed pink at his words and how she turned her gaze back to her food, evidently trying to suppress a smile as she stuffed roasted potatoes into her mouth. Enjolras got to his feet and leaned down to kiss the top of her head before making his way over to the buffet table, wanting to grab some food before the next events of the reception. After grabbing a plate of spaghetti, he went back to sit beside Éponine and eat in comfortable silence beside her as they listened to the silly love songs playing in the background, as was the typical soundtrack to wedding receptions. Shortly after everyone had finished their meals, the dance floor opened.

Éponine laid her head against Enjolras’ shoulder as they watched Marius lead Cosette out onto the middle of the dance floor, the newlyweds beginning to dance around in a slow waltz to Train’s “Marry Me” as the guests all watched them, entranced. Éponine caught herself smiling at the heartwarming sight, wondering if she and Enjolras would ever get to have that until she stopped herself.

She can’t let herself get too carried away when envisioning her future with him. A big white wedding was out of the question until further notice.

Even still, she couldn’t help but think about what he had said back when her mother came to their place, when he thought Éponine wasn’t there to hear his words— _I love her, more than anything in the world, and someday, if she’ll let me, I want to be able to call her my wife_. The two of them had never discussed marriage before, but the thought of it scared her. What if things fell apart?

She brushed the thought away, trying not to dwell on it too much. At the moment, their main priority was Peanut. They could save marriage for later, and even then, Éponine was sure she would be content with bringing a couple of friends to City Hall to act as witnesses and get married in a simple ceremony.

 _Stop thinking about this!_ she scolded herself. Peanut first.

Enjolras was absently caressing Éponine’s bump as they watched Cosette twirling around the dance floor, now dancing with her father to “Cecilia and the Satellite” as Marius stood to the side, watching his wife—God, his _wife_ , he definitely wasn’t going to get tired of that anytime soon, or anytime ever—dancing with Mr. Fauchelevent as the guests did the same, watching the bride dancing with her father. Éponine hummed along to the music and was nearly lulled to sleep by the music just when Enjolras stood up, offering her his hand.

Éponine gave him a quizzical look, wondering what on earth he could want. As if reading her mind, Enjolras gestured to the dance floor, where many of the Amis had gathered to dance, telling her, “It’s time for us to dance before all the guests can dance. The bridal party goes before the guests, remember?” He took her hand in his and helped her to her feet, guiding her out onto the dance floor in a somewhat reserved manner, his breath hitching when she reached up to put her arms around his neck. He had never been one for dancing, tensing up for a few moments before he placed his arms around her waist and pulled her close as the next song began, letting her guide him around the dance floor due to his lack of experience in dancing.

“So what do you think?” Éponine murmured, attempting to make light conversation as she gazed up into his blue eyes. “About all this. Big white weddings and shit.”

“There are too many people,” Enjolras replied in mild distaste, looking around at the guests. “It feels suffocating.”

Éponine laughed in agreement as Enjolras twirled her around before pulling her back into his arms. “It really is, isn’t it?” She then winced at that same weird feeling she had been feeling since that morning, sharp pains shooting through her head before disappearing almost immediately. Enjolras noticed how her happy expression wavered for a split second, her wince almost imperceptible, and his brow immediately furrowed in worry.

“You okay?” he asked, concern evident in the look on his face.

“I think I need to sit down,” Éponine told him softly. She started to guide him back towards their table, feeling rather faint all of a sudden, an odd yet familiar sort of throbbing in the back of her head. Enjolras raised his eyebrows but didn’t question her further, sitting down beside her and letting her lay her head on his shoulder as they watched the guests begin to join the newlyweds and the bridal party on the dance floor, leaving them sitting alone. Éponine’s hand rested against her bump as she felt Peanut’s sporadic kicks, glad that the attention wasn’t on her as the guests danced, music playing in the background.

After some time, the dance floor cleared and Cosette took a seat in a chair the MC brought out, whoops and cheers sounding out from the guests as Marius stooped down to remove the garter she had on underneath the layers of chiffon that made up her flowing skirt. Once he had removed the garter and stood up, the MC called for all bachelors to gather on the dance floor as Marius prepared to throw the garter. Éponine nudged Enjolras, lifting her head up to grin at him.

“Aren’t you going to go join them, pretty boy?” she questioned, brown eyes alight as a corner of her lip quirked up in a smirk, making him blush.

“I suppose there’s no harm in it,” he replied, getting to his feet as Éponine did the same. He made his way over to the clump of bachelors gathering on the dance floor as Éponine approached Cosette, who was standing with Azelma and Musichetta and positively beaming as she watched Marius prepare to throw the garter. The freckle-faced groom seemed to be bursting with energy as he squeezed his eyes shut and tossed the garter behind him.

Just as the garter was flying up into the air, Musichetta leaned over and whispered to Éponine, “I bet you twenty bucks that Enj will catch it.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Éponine declined just as Enjolras, as Musichetta had predicted, caught the garter in his hand, seeming not to realise what he had just done until the men surrounding him burst into cheers, startling him out of his wits and leading to him looking down in his hand at the garter he was holding. Blue eyes widening in surprise, he looked up and immediately caught Éponine’s eye, his cheeks flaming red when she grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up in spite of the mild throbbing in the back of her head, which was becoming more consistent as time passed. She ignored it as she gathered with all other bachelorettes for the much-awaited bouquet toss, having no idea what to expect.

Of course she had to catch the bouquet.

Éponine didn’t quite catch it on purpose, not really—she was originally just trying to prevent the bouquet from smashing into her face and knocking her to the floor, and she hadn’t quite processed the fact that she had caught the bouquet until she felt Cosette taking the bouquet out of her hand to hold for Éponine as Azelma and Musichetta shoved her at Enjolras, the dance floor clearing for their dance together. Éponine was surprised, to say the least, to find herself in Enjolras’ arms once again, but it wasn’t unwelcome—on the contrary, she was relieved that she was going to be dancing with her own boyfriend and not one of Marius’ random cousins. Earlier, Cosette had made an offhand comment about how she had always longed to throw a book at Marius’ cousin Theodule’s head and Éponine had deducted that this Theodule Cosette had mentioned in passing was one of the stuffy relatives she had been talking about before the wedding.

“Hello again, stranger,” Éponine quipped as she felt Enjolras’ arms encircle her waist, pulling her as close to him as he could as she placed her arms around his neck.

Enjolras looked down at her bump in amusement, light dancing in his bright blue eyes. “I think there’s something between us,” he told her in a joking manner as the music began to play. Éponine rolled her eyes and lightly smacked him in the arm.

“You’re not funny,” she informed him bluntly as Peanut kicked hard once Éponine and Enjolras were dancing around with ease, Enjolras seeming to have gotten the hang of dancing. The throbbing in her head had become worse but she made no mention of it, not wanting to cause a scene when all eyes were on her and Enjolras.

The two of them waltzed around alone together for quite some time before others began to join them on the dance floor, the music changing from a slow song to ABBA’s “Voulez-Vous”. Energy was rife in the air and Éponine suddenly felt as if all the breath had been ripped from her lungs as the dancing guests seemed to close in on her and Enjolras, her head spinning as she tried to calm herself, her hand flying to her temple to rub it in an attempt to soothe her throbbing headache. The contented look in Enjolras’ blue eyes soon morphed in alarm at the sight of the look on Éponine’s face as she found it becoming increasingly harder to breathe, what with all the people seeming to close in on her as they danced around to ABBA.

Éponine tried to focus on Enjolras, his face going in and out of focus as she used whatever energy she had left to approach him and grab him by the arms, her breathing shallow as she looked around at the room. She felt light-headed, a little too light-headed for her own liking, her head spinning in circles as the music faded in and out and made it impossible for her to think straight. She looked back up at Enjolras, her breath sounding too noisy to her ears even with the blaring music in the background. Why was she feeling so faint?

Maybe she should have paid attention to those earlier headaches after all.

The last thing she saw was Enjolras’ face before she felt her knees buckle beneath her, collapsing into his arms.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://cdn.essensedesigns.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/5989.1445974106.0-530x845.jpg) is what i picture cosette's wedding dress to be like, in case y'all were wondering ;)


	18. Chapter XVIII

“Éponine!” Enjolras was knocked off his feet at the unexpected weight as Éponine collapsed, the both of them falling onto the dance floor. Many of the guests didn’t seem to notice until Cosette happened to glance their way, letting out a horrified shriek at the sight of a heavily pregnant Éponine unconscious on the floor, having taken Enjolras down with her. Startled by the bride’s loud shriek, they all turned to see what she was looking at and promptly gasped, almost in unison, at the sight of that pregnant bridesmaid lying unconscious.

Combeferre wasted no time in rushing over to Éponine and Enjolras as the guests had the good sense to back off, exchanging uneasy looks between themselves as Combeferre knelt down beside Enjolras and helped lay Éponine flat on her back, checking for a pulse and letting out a sigh of relief. He immediately turned to Enjolras, asking urgently, “What happened?”

“She just—Jesus, she just—” Enjolras couldn’t quite find the words to properly describe the look on her face just before she fainted, instead staring at her limp, unconscious form in horror. Other than Éponine and Enjolras themselves, only Combeferre knew of her condition—how the hell were they supposed to explain everything to the others? Lowering his voice, Enjolras asked, “Do you think this might have to do with—with the preeclampsia?”

“Possibly,” Combeferre replied, his tone grim as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call an ambulance. After several gruelling moments in which Enjolras felt like tearing his hair out at how the minutes seemed to stretch out longer than they should, Combeferre tucked his phone away back in his pocket and told Enjolras, “An ambulance is on its way. What should we tell the others?”

“I don’t think we should tell them anything until ’Ponine wakes up,” Enjolras replied, his voice low. He almost didn’t notice Grantaire appearing at his side, having handed Toby off to Rachelle, who was among the numerous wedding guests.

“What happened, Enj?” Grantaire asked apprehensively, bringing his hand to his mouth and beginning to chew on his nails in a fit of nerves, wondering what the hell he would do if anything happened to Éponine.

Enjolras turned to look at him, an unreadable expression in his blue eyes. “We’re going to take her to the hospital. Something is obviously wrong.”

“I’ll come with you,” Grantaire volunteered.

“No, you don’t have to,” Enjolras tried to say before Cosette came rushing over to them and knelt down beside Éponine’s unconscious body, her breaths coming out short and shallow as she felt Éponine’s bump for any sign of movement from Peanut. At the feeling of the faintest kick, Cosette sighed in relief and turned to Enjolras, big blue eyes wild with worry.

“Is Eppy going to be okay?” Cosette squeaked out, trying to calm her breathing. “I’ll come with you to the hospital, I’ll—”

“No, Cosette, this is your wedding reception, the bride can’t just disappear like that,” Enjolras replied, an edge of protest to his tone. “You haven’t even cut the cake yet.”

“But Eppy obviously isn’t fine!” Cosette pointed out, her voice going up an octave as she began to feel tears pooling in her eyes. “Enjolras, we all need to be there for her, she’s—”

“ _No_ , Cosette,” Enjolras interrupted, his tone stern and final. “It’s your wedding day, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’ll do whatever the _fuck_ I want on _my_ goddamn wedding day,” Cosette retorted harshly, making Enjolras, Grantaire, and Combeferre fall silent. The tiny blonde had _never_ cursed before.

“… Jesus Christ,” Grantaire muttered after some time, shocked by the words that had just escaped Cosette’s lips.

“Cosette, what about all your guests?” Combeferre, ever the peacemaker, tried to reason with her, moving closer to the small woman as he told her, “They came here to celebrate you and Marius and your marriage. What would they think about you ditching your own wedding?”

“I don’t even know half these people,” Cosette replied, the smallest hints of fury beginning to creep into her tone as she spat, “They’re mostly guests of Marius—I never had much family to invite to begin with, and contrary to popular belief, I don’t have many friends outside of you guys. I don’t give a shit what they’ll think; I need to see for myself that Eppy will be okay.”

“Just… stay here for the rest of the reception,” Enjolras attempted to compromise, beginning to grow rather intimidated by the tiny bride. “You only have about an hour and a half left, don’t you? You only have to stay for a little while more and then you can come join us in the hospital.”

Cosette glowered at the three men, making them all flinch in tandem at the unexpected fire in her blue eyes as she begrudgingly agreed. “Fine, I’ll stay, but only until the end, and then I’m going to see Eppy. All of you can leave if you want—if I can’t, then you guys should to make up for me and Marius not being able to be there. Maybe she’ll wake up before Marius and I get there. She needs to have at least one of you with her when she wakes up.” Cosette’s blue eyes fixed on Enjolras and she told him plainly, “She needs you most of all, Enjolras. Even if she doesn’t actually admit it out loud, you’re the most important person in her life. She needs you.”

Enjolras nodded, biting his lip as he glanced down at Éponine, feeling tears beginning to sting his eyes. She looked so frail, so helpless; he resolved to refuse to leave her side until the paramedics arrived.

When the ambulance came after what felt like an eternity, Azelma, Gavroche, Jehan, Grantaire, Feuilly, and Joly decided to come along with Enjolras and Combeferre to the hospital so Éponine could have some company once she woke up. Enjolras and Combeferre clambered into the ambulance itself without so much as asking the paramedics to give them the green light to do so while the others told them they’d go on the subway and meet them there at the hospital. Enjolras could only imagine how peculiar of a sight that would be—six people dressed in formal wear trying to navigate the grimy New York subway without soiling their expensive outfits.

Well, he’d seen worse.

He took Éponine’s hand in his as the ambulance sped off to the hospital, unable to tear his gaze away from her unconscious form on the stretcher as he stared at her pensively, blue eyes clouded with worry. He felt Combeferre put an arm around him and allowed him to move closer so they’d be sitting with their sides pressed up against each other, the both of them keeping their eyes fixed on Éponine.

“Are you okay?” Combeferre asked gingerly, his voice low. Earlier, they had informed the paramedics of her condition when the ambulance arrived; the paramedics had reasoned that hypertension might have come into play when she fainted.

“No,” Enjolras replied quietly, still staring at Éponine and holding her hand like a lifeline. “I hope ’Ponine is, though.” He chuckled almost inaudibly and smiled to himself despite it all, giving an almost indiscernible shake of his head. “I love her, ’Ferre. As long as she and Peanut are okay, I’ll be okay.” He cocked his head as he gazed at Éponine’s limp form, murmuring absently, “I think I want to marry her.”

Combeferre’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at Enjolras’ offhand statement, and he questioned mildly, “You do?”

“Yes, I do,” Enjolras confirmed, voice barely audible, his eyes still fixed on Éponine. “She and I are starting a family together anyway, why shouldn’t marriage be thrown into the mix? I don’t know if she would say yes if I asked, though,” he mumbled, looking down at their clasped hands. “She would say it’s too soon.” He laughed somewhat derisively, going on, “Besides, I’ve never even said ‘I love you’ to her out loud yet, not after that disaster back in December when she told me she would get scared, maybe even scared enough to run away, if I did. I don’t want to scare her off.” Letting out a sigh of frustration, he looked back at Éponine, an unreadable expression in his blue eyes as he bit down on his lip. “I just love her so much, Combeferre, and it scares me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” He looked at Éponine’s limp hand in his once again, murmuring, “I don’t know. I think being part of a wedding made me start thinking about my own future. Jesus.”

“If you really want to marry her, then discuss it with her,” Combeferre suggested quietly, looking up and noticing how the paramedics seemed to be oblivious to the conversation he and Enjolras were in the middle of. “Who knows? Maybe she would be on board with it.” A corner of Combeferre’s mouth tugged up in the smallest hint of a smile as he took Enjolras’ other hand in his own and squeezed it, causing the marble man to finally tear his gaze away from his Éponine and look up to meet Combeferre’s eyes. “No, I know she would be on board with it. Like Cosette said, you’re the most important person in Éponine’s life, Enjolras, and you’ve already been together for a few months now.”

“A few months seems too short of a time before jumping into marriage,” Enjolras pointed out in a low voice. “She would most likely freak out again. Just bringing it up might scare her off. Her hormones have been pretty crazy lately.” He sighed again, looking at Combeferre’s hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll just see where life takes us. Maybe in a year or two. I don’t know. Christ, I guess being part of a wedding really did get me thinking.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, Éponine was immediately whisked off by the doctors and despite Enjolras’ numerous protests, he was forced to stay behind and wait for the doctors to finish doing their thing in the waiting room with the others. The doctors and nurses had seemed surprised at the sight of several people dressed as if they just came back from a wedding sitting around the waiting room, but they quickly dismissed it. They’d seen stranger things in the emergency room.

Enjolras had taken the empty seat closest to the room the doctors had taken Éponine to, constantly stealing glances at any nurses that passed by and contemplating asking them about Éponine before deciding against it each time, not noticing how Grantaire approached him and tapped him on the shoulder. Jolting slightly in his seat at the unexpected contact, he looked up at Grantaire, raising an eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?” Enjolras asked, coming off as impatient as he tapped his foot, awaiting an answer from Grantaire.

“Why don’t you and Combeferre go buy that crib to surprise Éponine with while we wait for her?” Grantaire suggested. “You can go hide it at Jehan’s place for the baby shower in a few days. Here, I have a key.” He reached into his pocket and dug out a copy of the key to Jehan’s loft, having acquired it some time ago, and handed it to Enjolras. “We’ll wait for the others and for Éponine to wake up. I just talked to one of the doctors; they said she’ll probably wake up in a few hours or so.” His brow furrowing, he asked, “Why _did_ she faint, Enj? You never said anything about it. Is she all right?”

“I want to be there for her when she wakes up,” Enjolras protested, looking down at the key in his hand. “It’s only fair. After all, she was there for me when I woke up after my accident.” He was just about to hand the key back to Grantaire before the man retracted his hand, refusing to take it.

“Enjolras, the doctors said it’ll take _at least_ a few hours until she wakes up,” Grantaire pointed out, not failing to notice how Enjolras never really answered his question. “Do you really want to spend all that time waiting here? There’s no harm in going to get her that crib you said she really wanted. We’ve all given you our bit of the money.”

Enjolras glowered at Grantaire for a few moments before relenting, begrudgingly getting to his feet and pocketing the key before he made his way over to Combeferre. Grantaire watched as the two men eventually exited the waiting room, presumably on their way out to go take the subway back to Éponine and Enjolras’ place to go get his car before going to get the crib. Grantaire took the seat Enjolras had been sitting in, smiling to himself at the thought of how Éponine would react when they presented her with the crib.

His train of thought was soon broken by the sound of a doctor’s voice. Grantaire looked up to see a dark-haired young doctor standing there and he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The doctor nodded at him. “She’s still asleep, but you can see her now.”

* * *

Éponine opened her eyes and was immediately blinded by light.

She felt dizzy and disoriented, wondering where the hell she was—the last thing she remembered was losing consciousness in Enjolras’ arms at Marius and Cosette’s wedding reception. Sitting bolt upright in bed, blinking at the harsh white light and trying hard not to panic as her breathing became heavy at the thought of being in unknown territory, she looked around at her surroundings, vaguely noting how she was still in her pastel pink bridesmaid dress. It was an unfamiliar room almost devoid of colour, with white walls and white bedsheets and bright white ceiling lights that were painful to look at. Looking around, she noticed Grantaire sitting in an armchair nearby, still dressed in his tuxedo from the wedding, scrolling through his phone and seeming to be unaware of the fact that Éponine had stirred. Feeling a dull ache in her back, she rolled her eyes and loudly cleared her throat to get Grantaire’s attention.

He finally looked up from his phone and a wide grin spread across his face at the sight of Éponine awake after several hours of rotating places with the others to wait for her awakening. “Morning, sunshine,” he greeted, getting up and pushing his armchair closer to the hospital bed so he could sit beside her. Grinning at her, he drawled, “Guess I can officially say I’m your favourite, since you woke up for me.”

“Where am I?” Éponine questioned, feeling rather woozy as she propped herself up against the headboard.

“You’re in the hospital,” Grantaire replied matter-of-factly. “You passed out at the wedding reception and so we took you here.” Pausing for a few moments, he asked gingerly, “Why _did_ you pass out? You’ve seemed perfectly healthy for a long time.”

Éponine was just about to open her mouth to answer before deciding against it, feeling like she could kick herself for forgetting to take three days’ worth of medication for her hypertension, which she deducted had probably been the reason she had fainted in the first place. “I’ll tell you later,” she told him, looking around at the room, which was otherwise empty besides Grantaire’s presence. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s currently, uh—” Grantaire looked at the time on his phone, informing Éponine, “It’s about two in the morning. We’ve all stayed here overnight waiting for you to wake up. Other people are starting to stare.” He laughed, saying, “It’s not every day you see an entire bridal party _and_ the bride and groom themselves sitting around in their clothes from the wedding in a hospital waiting room.”

“Jesus fuck, two in the goddamn morning?” Had she been out for that long?

“Yep,” Grantaire confirmed, looking her up and down. “I talked to a doctor earlier; they said you’re okay.”

“I—I’m okay?” Éponine didn’t fail to note how Grantaire hadn’t made any mention of Peanut and she immediately felt tears stinging her eyes, distressed at the thought of her baby being anything but alive and well. She noticed how she hadn’t felt any movement from Peanut and that was when she really began to cry, trying to stay as silent as possible as tears streamed down her face. Christ, her hormones really were all over the place now.

A look of alarm crossed Grantaire’s face when Éponine began to cry, having expected the opposite reaction from her. “What’s wrong?”

“Is—is Peanut okay?” Éponine choked out, pressing a hand to her bump and desperately hoping Grantaire would say yes.

“Oh, of course they are!” he reassured her hastily, unsettled by how she had just burst into tears without warning. As if on cue, Éponine felt the slightest kick from Peanut and a wave of relief immediately washed over her as she let out an odd little sob-laugh, thinking of how ridiculous she had been for crying because of Grantaire’s misuse of fucking _grammar_. Seeming rather shaken himself by how rapidly Éponine’s mood changed, Grantaire told her, “Your doctor said there’s a lot of cushioning in there since it’s your third trimester. It would probably take a lot to actually hurt your baby.”

Éponine breathed a sigh of relief and let out a laugh that sounded absolutely pathetic to her own ears before looking around the room and furrowing her brow. “Where’s Enjolras?” she asked.

“I’ll go get him,” Grantaire told her, getting up and exiting the room without having to be told twice.

Éponine fidgeted slightly in the hospital bed, trying to rearrange her dress so she could go five seconds without feeling the need to scratch herself due to the itchy fabric. After several tries and no success, she gave up and simply rubbed her belly, feeling Peanut’s soft kicks and smiling to herself. At the sound of the door opening, she immediately looked up, seeing how Enjolras entered the otherwise vacant hospital room and went over to sit in the armchair Grantaire had vacated mere minutes ago.

“Hey,” she whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He laced his fingers through hers the moment her small hand had slipped into his large one and brought her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, his eyes rather glassy. She gave him a sad little smile in lieu of comforting words, unable to come up with any at the moment.

“Hey,” he replied, voice barely audible as his blue eyes found her brown. “You’re awake.”

“Obviously.” Éponine bit down on her lip as she smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood and feeling her heart soar at how he chuckled. Enjolras went to sit on the side of the bed, Éponine having left some space for him to sit down beside her.

“Peanut’s okay,” Éponine assured him softly as he looked down at and pressed his free hand to her bump, feeling faint kicking from their baby and giving Éponine a watery smile. He had been so terrified when she fainted into his arms for the second time; seeing her awake was a massive relief after all the horrifying thoughts that had whirled through his mind as he immediately imagined the worst-case scenario as he tended to do.

“I was so worried, ’Ponine,” Enjolras murmured, meeting her eyes once again. “I talked to a few of the doctors. They said you fainted because of hypertension. Have you been taking your medication lately?” he asked, concern apparent in his voice.

Éponine looked down sheepishly at her bump. “I may have forgotten to take my meds in the past three days,” she admitted quietly, not looking up for fear of being scolded by Enjolras.

“Éponine, that medication is really important.” She looked up in surprise at his gentle tone of voice, having expected him to snap at her for endangering herself and their baby like that. Enjolras’ blue eyes had gone soft as he gazed into her dark eyes, telling her, “You don’t want anything to happen to yourself and to Peanut, do you? I’ll remind you to take your meds if I have to. I know you forget things sometimes.”

“Baby brain,” Éponine reasoned, letting out a small laugh. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be angry?” Enjolras cocked his head, wondering why she would think he would be angry at her. “We all make mistakes, ’Ponine, we all forget things at times. I’m just worried. You need to be more cautious, especially with the preeclampsia. You don’t want that turning into eclampsia, do you?”

“No,” Éponine murmured, looking down at their intertwined hands once again. “I guess I don’t. But seriously, this baby brain shit is really getting to me. Can you remind me about taking my meds every day, just in case?”

Enjolras brought his hand to her lips once more, kissing her knuckles. “Of course I will.”

A pause. “What will we tell the others?” Éponine breathed, remembering what Grantaire had asked her earlier. “They all saw me when I passed out. They’re bound to suspect something. I don’t think I can lie to them the way I lied to my parents and their gang all the time way back when.”

“Maybe we’ll just tell them the truth?” It was a statement, but the way Enjolras phrased it made it sound more like a question.

Éponine frowned to herself. “I don’t want them coddling me,” she muttered under her breath. “I get enough of that from them just by being pregnant. I don’t want them coddling me any more than they already do.” After another pause, she let out a deep sigh and murmured, “Well, like I said, they’ll probably suspect something’s going on at some point. Let’s just tell them.”

Enjolras squeezed her hand, silently letting her know that he’d be there with her when she told the others of her condition before asking tentatively, “Can I—can I kiss you, or would now be a bad time?”

Éponine laughed and nodded, her eyes closing as he leaned in and she felt his lips brush hers in the softest of kisses, kissing him back the moment she felt his lips on hers. She took her hand out of his to bring both her hands up to gently grasp his face, kissing him tenderly and unable to resist a tiny smile against his lips when she heard him let out a contented sigh, about to deepen the kiss before they heard the sound of the door opening, jumping apart almost immediately to see Combeferre entering the room.

The bespectacled man’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes, you did,” Éponine replied bluntly, although there was a playful sparkle in her eye. “Buzz off, nerd.”

Combeferre raised his hands in surrender and smiled at her before backing out of the room, closing the door behind him to allow Éponine and Enjolras some privacy. Éponine’s hand found its way into Enjolras’ once more as their eyes met, a smile on her face at the way he was gazing at her. “Stop looking at me like that,” she hissed, her cheeks reddening when he smiled even more at her adorable blush.

“I’m just glad you and Peanut are okay.” He looked down at their clasped hands and gave her hand a squeeze, marvelling at how small her hand looked in his own large hand, and yet they seemed to fit perfectly together, calloused fingers that had seen too much over the years tightly intertwined. Reaching to press his other hand against her bump, he was reminded of the fact that they only had eight weeks to go and they would be full-time parents.

“Are you nervous?” Éponine’s words broke him out of his trance and Enjolras looked up, a questioning look creeping into his blue eyes as he felt a kick from Peanut.

“About what?”

“Parenthood,” Éponine clarified, placing her free hand on top of his on her bump. “Just think about it, ’Jolras—eight weeks. We only have eight weeks left, and then we’ll be parents.” She let out a long-winded sigh, feeling Peanut kicking at Enjolras’ touch and murmuring, “What if I’m horrible? What if I traumatise them with my limited parenting skills?” Her dark eyes widened as a thought flitted through her mind and she whispered, “What if I _drop them_?”

“Éponine, you’re not going to drop Peanut,” Enjolras assured her, rubbing her stomach. “I think that kind of thing comes instinctively. If anything, you should be worried about me dropping them.”

“ _You’re_ not going to drop them,” Éponine argued lightly, a dismissive air about her. “You’re perfect at everything you do, pretty boy. You’re going to be great.”

“Well, so will you,” Enjolras insisted, a smile lighting up his face at how Éponine laughed at his insistence. “I know you’ll be a great mother, ’Ponine. I’ve seen you around children. You’re a natural.” After a brief pause, he added, “Now, all you need to do is stop swearing so much around little children, otherwise our Peanut’s first word will be ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ or something of the like.”

Éponine scrunched her face up at him, grimacing at the thought. She could barely control her potty mouth; it seemed she had never grown out of certain habits from her days of helping out her father and his gang. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Exhibit A.”

“Shut up!”

After several more minutes of exchanging light-hearted banter, Enjolras kissed her knuckles yet again and asked quietly, “Do you want to see the others now? The doctors said you’re allowed to get up and walk around for a bit. If you’re well enough, you might be able to go home soon this morning, maybe in a few hours when the sun is up.”

His words served as a reminder that it was still in the wee hours of the morning and Éponine stole a glance at the wall clock she had noticed earlier when she scanned the room, seeing that half an hour had passed since she woke up. She nodded slowly at Enjolras’ words, replying, “I guess.”

She paused for a moment, gently pulling her hand away from his and pressing them to her bump, looking down at the curve of her stomach. “Help me up?”

Enjolras complied, sliding off the bed and getting to his feet as Éponine swung her legs over the edge of the bed, grasping his forearms as she stood up, stumbling slightly from Peanut weighing her down. She trudged towards the foot of the bed, finding that her flats from the wedding had been placed near the footboard and sliding her feet into them before she linked her arm with Enjolras’ and let him guide her out of the room, still feeling somewhat dazed. Her dizziness had lessened considerably though, especially when compared to how light-headed she had been at the wedding.

Her steps were slow and cautious as she and Enjolras made their way out into the hallway, arm in arm, adjusting to a slow, steady pace as they walked to the waiting room together. Upon seeing the others sitting around aimlessly in wait for her, Éponine stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowing at the peculiar sight. Grantaire had been right—it wasn’t every day you saw an entire bridal party and the bride and groom sitting in a hospital waiting room, still in their wedding clothes. Éponine knew Marius and Cosette had chosen to delay their honeymoon by several months and she was grateful for the fact that they’d be around along with the rest of the Amis for Peanut’s birth.

It was strange to look at them all now—all dressed in formal wear, faces pinched with worry as they waited for Éponine to appear, feet tapping on the floor and thumbs twiddling in their laps. She cleared her throat as loudly as she could to alert them all of their presence, and almost simultaneously, thirteen heads looked up to see Éponine standing there with Enjolras, a feeble little smile on her face.

Silence fell upon the waiting room before it was broken moments afterwards with a piercing shriek from Cosette, who shot up to her feet and bounded towards Éponine in her wedding dress, flying towards her like a bullet before tackling her in a hug and nearly knocking the wind out of her. Caught off-guard, Éponine wheezed as Cosette almost immediately detached herself from Éponine, an apologetic look on her heart-shaped face. “Sorry,” the blonde breathed, relief washing over her at how Éponine seemed to be well. “Too enthusiastic as always. I’m just glad you’re okay, Eppy.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Éponine replied jokingly, smiling back at Cosette. “Still kind of woozy, though.”

“What happened?” Jehan approached them with his brow furrowed in concern, running his fingers through his ginger locks. “You’ve seemed pretty healthy so far and then you just fainted. Is everything okay?”

Éponine gave Jehan a wan smile, looking up at him with a sad look in her dark eyes. “Actually, no, it isn’t,” she admitted quietly. “But I don’t want to tell you guys about it here in the waiting room. There are other people here; I don’t need them all up in my business. Why don’t you go tell the others to meet me in my room? Enjolras and I will be there.”

“Okay,” Jehan agreed, nodding in assent and turning around as Cosette gave Éponine a curious look before going back to Marius. Éponine looked up at Enjolras and smiled sadly, letting him guide her back to her room to meet everyone there.

“Are you sure the doctors will let them all in?” Enjolras asked as he sat beside her at the edge of the hospital bed, Éponine swinging her legs as Peanut gave the occasional kick here and there. “Fifteen people in a single hospital room is a lot.”

“I’ll sweet-talk my way to convincing them if I have to,” Éponine assured him, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I’m good at that.”

Luckily enough, she managed to convince the doctors to let them all in with almost no trouble—they had seemed sceptical at first about fifteen people being in a single hospital room, but Éponine managed to sway them with a sweet voice and a big dimpled smile. Soon enough, all of the Amis were in Éponine’s room, standing around impatiently for her to tell them the truth already. Once Éponine had managed to quiet them down long enough, she announced to the packed room, “Okay, so I may be going through some… complications in my pregnancy.”

A loud gasp sounded from the corner of the room and Éponine didn’t even have to turn to see who it was; she could already tell it was Joly. She and Enjolras had never really followed through with their original plan to tell him as well as Combeferre.

“It’s pretty mild at the moment, don’t worry,” Éponine reassured them all hastily. “I’m on medication so it doesn’t get worse. It’s called preeclampsia and apparently it’s ‘one of the leading causes of premature births’.” Looking around and seeing the looks on everyone’s faces, Éponine told them all, “Let me make one thing clear—I don’t want you guys to coddle me because of this. You coddle me enough already just because I’m pregnant. I’ll be fine, I promise. I just forgot to take my meds in the past three days, which is why we’re in this damn hospital today in the first place.” Exhaling deeply, she said, “I’ll be fine, guys. I promise I will.”

Enjolras gave her hand a squeeze and she looked up to glance sideways at him, seeing the small encouraging smile on his face, and in that moment, that was all she needed.

* * *

Éponine went to lie down in the middle of their bed almost immediately the moment she and Enjolras entered their bedroom after getting home at eight that morning, carefully draping her bridesmaid dress over the armchair in the corner and trading it out for sleep shorts and one of Enjolras’ T-shirts, Enjolras taking off his tuxedo to replace it with shorts and a loose NYU T-shirt. He watched as she curled up into a foetal position on her left side while he went to sit down on the piano stool, blue eyes still fixed on her. “You okay?” he asked gingerly, voice gentle.

Éponine smiled feebly and glanced at him. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“You want me to play you something?” Enjolras offered, turning around to face the piano, though his eyes were still on her.

Éponine gave him a soft smile, curling up into herself even more as she gazed at him sitting before the piano. “Go for it. I could use some music right now.”

Éponine listened as Enjolras began to play, piecing together a soft melody she recognised as “Rewrite the Stars”, and she smiled to herself, rubbing her bump and feeling Peanut kicking in response. She liked to think Peanut could hear their daddy playing the piano as she lost herself in the music, catching herself softly humming along, just loud enough for herself to hear. After some time, Enjolras somehow managed to transition into “She’s Always a Woman” and Éponine smiled, remembering how he had first played the song for her back when they were twenty-one in college. He had told her that the lyrics reminded him of her.

After some time, Éponine sat up in bed and glanced over at the heap of birthday presents she still hadn’t gotten around to opening after two months as Enjolras finished playing “Make You Feel My Love”, getting up to sit beside her and follow her gaze at the pile of presents. “You still haven’t opened those?” he asked quietly, tentatively putting an arm around her as she leaned into him.

“Never really got around to it,” Éponine mumbled in response, laying her head on his shoulder. “I guess I’ve just been too occupied with other things. I guess I’ll just open them now. I mean, I’ll have a lot of presents to open at the baby shower, I should just get _these_ presents over with.” She lifted her head up once again and scooted over to slide off the bed and take the entire heap of presents into her arms, balancing them on top of her bump just to see if she could before going back and dropping them all near the foot of the bed, climbing on as best as she could with her huge bump getting in the way.

Éponine looked at the presents, seeming to be deep in thought as she bit her lip, before reaching out and grabbing a particularly heavy package wrapped in sparkly lavender wrapping paper. Grunting as she pulled it into her lap, she ripped off the wrapping paper to be greeted by the sight of a leather-bound scrapbook. A curious look on her face, she pried off the card taped to the scrapbook and opened it to see that it had been a joint present from Cosette and Marius. Opening the scrapbook eagerly, she found photograph after photograph artfully arranged on the crisp pages, photographs dating back from their college days up until now. Flipping through the pages, Éponine felt her cheeks burn at the sight of pictures from her high school days, undoubtedly procured from Grantaire, the backstabbing bastard. Enjolras was looking through the scrapbook with her and couldn’t resist a smile at the sight of baby Éponine in high school until she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “It’s not funny,” she hissed, face flushed red.

Surprisingly, a little under half of the scrapbook had been left blank, and Éponine looked back at the card Cosette and Marius had put in with the present. Reading over the neatly written words again, she realised that the blank pages were there for her to paste her own photographs into, to document her present as well as her past. _The blank pages are there for your own pictures—here’s to your next adventure!_ Cosette had written out on the card, adding a smiley face at the end. Éponine didn’t realise how she had teared up until a tear splashed onto one of the photographs she had been looking at, a picture from that cross-country road trip they had all gone on together back during the summer before their last year of college. It was from the few days they had spent in San Francisco—Éponine had leapt onto Grantaire’s back and they, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Gavroche were standing on a hill with a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“That was thoughtful of them,” Enjolras commented in a low voice, putting an arm around Éponine after she reached over to grab another present from the heap. Ripping off the wrapping paper, Éponine found a lumpy little black Moleskine sketchbook and opened it to find watercolour drawings of the adventures of Les Amis over the years, many of the drawings featuring Éponine. This was undoubtedly Grantaire’s present to her and she laughed as she flipped through the pages, wondering how the hell he had managed to complete all these drawings so quickly. They were simplistic and gorgeous—little drawn versions of the Amis—and once again, Éponine caught herself marvelling at Grantaire’s talent and wondered why he wasn’t doing commissions for art galleries in SoHo already.

It took some time for her to get through the next several presents—she had received an oversized dinosaur onesie from Joly, a painting of herself with Enjolras that Feuilly had painted himself, a new pair of black leather knee-high boots from Musichetta that Éponine was definitely going to be wearing once she got this baby out, another photo album from Bossuet, Bose headphones from Azelma and Gavroche, a new badass leather jacket from Bahorel that, upon further inspection, was made of actual leather instead of that faux leather Éponine’s current signature leather jacket was made of, a whole assortment of scented candles from Jehan, several new pairs of earrings with the bi pride flag on all of them from Courfeyrac, and illustrated copies of all the Harry Potter books from Combeferre. Éponine was soon left with a thin, rectangular package that could only be Enjolras’ present to her.

“Go on, open it,” Enjolras told her softly, kissing her temple as she tore off the shiny red wrapping paper to reveal a thin jewellery box made of black velvet. Fascinated, Éponine ran her fingers over the soft velvet before opening the box to reveal a silver heart-shaped locket.

Rendered speechless, Éponine pulled out the locket by its thin silver chain and ran her fingers over the intricate carvings on the outside of it before opening it to find a miniscule photograph from two winters ago of her and Enjolras standing in front of Cinderella Castle at Disney World, the both of them beaming for the camera (though Éponine knew Enjolras was only smiling for the camera because she had coaxed him into it after yelling and begging and telling him that his future children would appreciate it). Words were inscribed on the inside and Éponine squinted to read them, bringing the locket closer to her face to properly read it.

_To the world you may be one person, but to me you are the world._

Her vision blurred by tears, Éponine looked up at Enjolras, a disbelieving little smile on her face. “Enjolras, you bought this for me?” she asked, reaching up to wipe away a tear that slid down her cheek.

“Of course I did, ’Ponine,” he replied, a hint of a gentle smile on his face.

“This must have cost a fortune,” Éponine murmured in awe, closing the locket and turning it over in her hands. “Why would you spend so much money on me?”

“Because you’re everything to me,” Enjolras responded simply, matter-of-fact. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before and it scares me shitless, but I ended up taking the risk anyway, and it turned out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Leaning in and closing his eyes, his forehead pressed against hers, he whispered, “In my wildest dreams, I never thought you would fall for me too.”

Éponine smiled and brought her free hand up to cup his jaw, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Enjolras melted, kissing her back the moment he felt her lips on his as he pressed a hand against her bump, feeling soft kicks from their Peanut. He sighed contentedly when he felt her lips curve into a slight smile against his before she pulled back, her eyes filled with tears and a soft dimpled smile on her face.

“This is probably the part where I would say ‘happy birthday’ had you opened it on your actual birthday, but it’s been two months.” Enjolras felt himself smile when he evoked a snort of mirth from Éponine with his words.

Éponine carefully handed the locket to Enjolras, pulling her hair up and asking, “Can you put it on for me, please?”

Enjolras smiled and nodded, clasping the chain around Éponine’s neck and drawing back to see how the locket rested against Éponine’s chest, shining silver against the crimson fabric of the T-shirt she was wearing. “It looks beautiful on you,” he told her softly, taking her hand in his and squeezing it and smiling at how Éponine’s cheeks flushed pink as she looked down into her lap, rubbing her bump with her free hand and feeling Peanut kicking.

“Thanks, ’Jolras,” she murmured, looking back up to meet his eyes, brown eyes finding blue. “I never thought I would end up falling in love with you, but I’m glad I did.”

His smile grew wider at her words and he pressed his other hand against her bump, letting out a low chuckle at the feeling of Peanut kicking for him. “Hey—I was going to ask you about it at the wedding reception but then all that shit happened and you had to go to the hospital—would you be cool if I invited my parents to your baby shower?” Enjolras asked anxiously, biting his lip as he awaited Éponine’s response.

Éponine’s mouth went dry. “Your—your parents?”

“They’re great people, don’t worry,” Enjolras assured her quickly, bringing his hands to her arms and rubbing them up and down. “Ask Combeferre, he’s known them for a long time; they’re not the stereotypical overbearing rich parents trying to set their only son up with a debutante. They’re not like that. I know they’ll love you, ’Ponine. I was on the phone with them recently and I mentioned that I’m dating someone, so they asked me who it is and I told them about you.”

“You told—you told your parents about me?” Éponine blinked repeatedly at Enjolras, caught off-guard.

Enjolras smiled sheepishly, looking as if he was beginning to regret even bringing it up. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “They’re really happy that I’ve found someone, my mother especially. I know she’ll love you. I also mentioned that you’re pregnant so now they want to meet you even more.”

“Wow, okay.” Éponine looked down at her bump, needing some time to process everything Enjolras had just told her as she blinked in mild confusion, feeling slightly less bewildered at the feeling of another kick from Peanut. She knew Enjolras’ parents couldn’t be all that bad if they raised him; just look at who he was today—an all-around gentleman, thoughtful, determined, and charming, though he could be terrible and intimidating should the need to be arose, but she wondered how they would react upon finding out she was a Thénardier. She figured it couldn’t hurt to meet her boyfriend’s parents at her baby shower, though—she was bound to meet them sooner or later, it was only a matter of time until she actually did. “Yeah, I think I’d be cool with it.” After a few moments, she asked, “They’re not, like, classist Republican assholes who have an issue with people who aren’t rich, straight, white, or male, right? Because I’m none of those things.”

“No, nothing of that sort,” Enjolras assured her. “They didn’t even question it when I came out to them. Well, they did, but they were those kinds of questions, like ‘When did you know?’ I told you, Éponine, they’ll love you. My mother told me that she already loves you, and she hasn’t even met you yet.”

Éponine furrowed her brow, still slightly bewildered. “Why would she say that?”

Enjolras felt his cheeks grow warm as he took her hand in his once more, admitting quietly, “She told me that I’ve seemed happier lately whenever I gave her a call, and she said it all made sense once I told her I’m with someone. I described you to her and she said it’s clear that you make me happy, so she’s just happy that I’ve found someone who makes me as happy as I am right now.”

Éponine’s frown of bafflement slowly morphed into a dimpled smile of pleasant surprise at his words and she looked down at their intertwined fingers, murmuring, “You mean that?”

Enjolras brought his other hand up to cup her face and lift her head up so she would be looking into his eyes. “Of course I do, Éponine,” he told her softly. “Why would I ever tell you anything other than the truth?”

Éponine smiled and leaned in for a kiss, vaguely feeling Peanut bruising her insides with how hard they were kicking as Enjolras kissed her back, bringing his other hand up to cradle her face in his hands as his lips curved into the smallest of smiles against hers, eliciting a small giggle from Éponine. She loved how perfectly their lips fit together, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, as his hands fell from her face so he could wrap his arms around her waist and pull her as close as he could with her bump getting between them while she reached up so her arms could loosely dangle around his neck. After some time, they broke apart for air, panting slightly as they gazed into each other’s eyes and Éponine reached up to brush some stray curls out of Enjolras’ face so she could see him better. The scratched-up part of his forehead from his car accident was completely gone by now and she tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips.

“I know it’s, like, eight thirty in the morning, but I think we should get some sleep,” she whispered to him, her dimples showing as a result of the little smile she had on her face. “A lot’s happened in the past twenty-four hours and I personally think we deserve some rest.”

Enjolras nodded, rather breathless as he gazed into her eyes, a throaty laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah, let’s get some rest now.”


	19. Chapter XIX

* * *

Éponine stood in front of the school building, gazing up at the tall brick walls as she pressed a hand against her bump. It was the last day of school before the students were let out on summer vacation and there was a somewhat bittersweet air about the day—Éponine wouldn’t be seeing her students for two and a half months, and this was to be her last day of teaching before she became a full-time mother in addition to an art teacher. When she came back in the autumn, she would have a baby on her hip and far more sleep deprivation than she had ever had in her life. She had decided to not go on maternity leave after all, figuring that since it was the last day, she should just suck it up and go in for work to bid her beloved students goodbye before school let out for the summer.

She walked into the school building with her new leather jacket from Bahorel in her arms, having carried it in her arms for the past hour due to how hot it was outside. Summer still had yet to officially arrive, but with the increasing heat, it might as well have, and Éponine was glad to finally be in the air-conditioned school building as she made her way to Javert’s office to talk to him for a bit before her first class started in twenty minutes. She could sense a few students eyeing her bump as she walked past them in the hallway, but she ignored the stares, having gotten used to them a few months ago. Holding her head high, she pulled her jacket on and marched towards the principal’s office.

After greeting the secretary and wishing her a happy summer, Éponine walked right past her desk to knock on Javert’s door, rocking back and forth on her feet as she patiently waited for him to call out, “Come in,” a hand resting against her bump as Peanut gave a dull kick. As expected, Javert soon called out for her to come inside his office and she wasted no time in entering, sitting down in the chair before his desk.

“Oh, Éponine.” Javert placed his hands on top of the table as his eyes trailed down to her prominent bump. It had been a little over five months since she informed him of her pregnancy and her bump was glaringly obvious at this point due to it being only a little over a month before her due date. “How have you been?”

“Kind of tired,” Éponine admitted. “I just really want this baby out at this point. I’m not due for a little over another month though, so I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and deal with this pregnancy shit for another month.” She rubbed her stomach, glancing down at it and laughing to herself at the feeling of another kick. “You’ll be at my baby shower, right? I’ve given Jehan’s apartment's address to Mr. Fauchelevent and I know you’ll be arriving with him.”

“I’ll be there,” Javert assured her, the typically hard look on his face softening just slightly. “Are you going to need to take the first couple of weeks of school off next semester? We can find a substitute for you.”

“Probably just a couple of weeks,” Éponine told him, laughing. “Maybe more if ’Jolras gets all overprotective like he tends to do. Don’t worry, sir, I won’t miss more than a month.”

“You’ll still have a job waiting for you when you come back,” Javert informed her in reassurance. “It’s rare that we get a teacher like you. Those students really love you.”

“I like to think they do,” Éponine joked, laughing once again. Pushing her chair back to get to her feet with some difficulty due to the weight of her bump, she told him, “Well, I should probably get ready. My first class for the last day of school, you know? I’ll see you at my baby shower, sir.”

“I’ve told you, just call me Philippe,” Javert reminded her once she reached the door.

Looking back, Éponine gave him a funny look and snorted. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that.”

* * *

Éponine leaned against her desk and toyed with her locket as she watched her junior class milling about, chattering animatedly amongst themselves about their plans for the summer and wishing Sonia good luck with her baby. Éponine smiled just watching them—they all seemed to be so supportive of the pregnant girl and so excited for their last summer before senior year, and Éponine didn’t fail to note how Maddy had an arm around Sebastian as they chatted with Matthew Bonnet. She rubbed her own swollen belly as she patiently waited for them to get into their seats and await her instructions for their last class of the day—and the semester. After some time, they were all seated at their tables, and Éponine made her way to the centre of the front of the room, clapping her hands together.

“Here it is, folks, last class of the semester!” she called out, grinning when she was met by cheers and whoops from the juniors. Once they had quieted down, Éponine added, “And the last class I’ll be teaching before I have a fucking _baby_ on my hip, so cheers to that!”

Their cheers were replaced by laughter, Sebastian’s cackles in particular ringing out through the art studio. Éponine laughed at the sight of them all and glanced down, thinking about how big she had gotten and wondering what parenthood had in store for her. After the students all settled down once more, Éponine asked, “What do you guys want to do for class today?”

“Sleep!” Matthew called out from the back of the room.

Éponine scrunched up her face. “That’s the one thing we’re _not_ going to do in class today,” she told him firmly.

After a few moments of contemplation as she paced back and forth, she finally decided out loud, “You know what? It’s the last day of school. I’ll let you guys do your own thing today, be it chatting, making art, or typing up some… questionable things. No sleeping, though,” she added when Matthew perked up, laughing when he groaned dramatically and buried his face in his table. “It’s your last class of the school year! Have fun! Kick back! But don’t watch porn,” she added quickly when Sebastian began to wiggle his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “I’d rather not get fired on the last day of school.”

Maddy laughed out loud, replying, “You can count on us, Miss T.”

Éponine grinned at her, noticing how she had switched seats to sit next to Sebastian. “I’ll see you guys in my class next year, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Sebastian hooted, nodding vigorously.

Éponine smiled and felt herself beginning to tear up at the thought of seeing them as seniors next semester, teaching them for one last year before they graduated and went out to meet the world. She reached up to wipe away her tears with the sleeve of her jacket as many of the students got out of their seats to walk around the classroom to chat to each other. Thinking that her work for now was done, she went back to sit down at her desk at the front of the room before she was approached by Sebastian.

Éponine looked up and sighed. “What is it, Sebastian?”

“Just wanted to talk to my favourite teacher and wish her good luck in her parenting endeavours,” Sebastian replied smoothly, a grin on his face. “Will you bring your baby into class when you come back to teach us next semester?”

“I don’t think I’d be able to do that,” Éponine told him, grimacing at the thought of bringing such a tiny baby into a classroom full of rowdy seniors. “I’ll show you guys pictures of them, though.”

“Do you know if they’re a boy or a girl?” Sebastian questioned. “Sonia’s having a boy.”

“No, I want it to be a surprise,” Éponine told him, her grimace slowly morphing into a dimpled grin. “So when the doctor says ‘It’s a boy!’ or ‘It’s a girl!’ it’ll be an actual surprise and I can cry more about it. Enjolras and I’ve decided on two names already, though.”

“If your baby’s a boy, are you naming them after me?” Sebastian enquired, quirking an eyebrow and grinning even wider.

Éponine rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Why the hell would I do that?” she joked, laughing when Sebastian cackled at her words. “No, we’ve decided on Victoire Gabrielle for a girl and Alexandre Hugo for a boy.”

“Nice names,” Sebastian commented, still with that grin on his face. “I forget your boyfriend has an actual name sometimes.”

Éponine furrowed her brow, a perplexed look on her face. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve just always referred to him as ‘Miss T’s hot boyfriend’, that’s all,” Sebastian explained, sniggering when Éponine gave him a look. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing these pictures of your baby when we come back next semester.”

“I might be missing the first couple of weeks of school, though,” Éponine told him. “Maybe three weeks or more than that. I won’t be gone for more than a month, though, don’t worry.”

“Well, good luck with your baby,” Sebastian told her, actually sincere for once as he winked. “I’ll still be here next semester for you to yell at, don’t worry!”

Éponine laughed and rolled her eyes when Sebastian made his way back to his table to slide into the seat beside Maddy and immediately begin to converse with her, Matthew, Désirée, and Sonia. Éponine chuckled to herself and took the Moleskine sketchbook Grantaire had given her out of her bag, beginning to flip through it and losing herself in the artwork, zoning out and zoning in on the elaborate watercolours Grantaire had done for her birthday as she lost track of everything else, inspecting the intricate artwork in fascination and awe.

When the class approached its end, everyone sat back at their tables as Éponine stood up once again, walking to the centre of the front of the room and twisting a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly as the students all settled down, awaiting her next words. After letting out an exhausted yawn, Éponine worked up the energy to shout out, “This is it, folks, five minutes until you’re officially on summer vacation! Can I get a hell yeah?!”

“Hell yeah!” many of the students yelled in response, some going so far as to pump their fists into the air.

Éponine began to tear up at how enthusiastic they all were and recalled her own high school days, remembering how she and Grantaire had been counting down the seconds until the bell rang every last day of school. This time, though, she didn’t attempt to hide her tears, laughing and letting a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed at her students, a bittersweet feeling beginning to overtake her. “Next year you’ll be seniors,” she said, letting out a watery laugh. “Before you know it, you’ll be graduating and going out into the real world. I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“We’re going to miss you too, Miss T,” Désirée called out, smiling at her.

“Thanks, Désirée,” Éponine replied, a grateful, tearful smile on her face. “Fuck, these pregnancy hormones are really getting to me. Forgive me for being a blubbering mess.” The corners of her mouth ticked up at the laughter that ensued and she continued, “It feels weird, you know? When I come back to teach you guys next semester, I’ll be a mom to an actual baby, a tiny little human, and it’s just—” She let out a surprised laugh at the feeling of a kick from Peanut. “It feels so surreal. You guys have been so supportive and so great and I’m really looking forward to seeing you again next semester.” She stole a glance at the clock and saw that it was less than a minute before the bell would ring, and so she called out, “Happy summer, everyone!”

As if on cue, the bell rang and the students were out of their seats in an instant, pouring out of the classroom and into the hallway to celebrate the beginning of summer. Éponine leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms across her chest, able to hear their whoops and cheers of celebration from the classroom, not noticing how Sonia had remained in her seat. After some time, she noticed the girl sitting there and beckoned her over.

“What’s up, Sonia?” Éponine asked as the girl got out of her seat and walked over to Éponine. The student was a good four inches taller than Éponine and she tried not to let that get to her, instead looking at Sonia’s bump. “You excited?”

“More like terrified,” Sonia replied truthfully, giving a sheepish smile as she fluffed her curls. “How do you do this parenthood thing?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Éponine confessed, rubbing her own bump and feeling another kick from Peanut. “This is the first time I’m doing this kind of thing as well. Sebastian told me you’re having a boy, by the way.”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun picking out a name,” Sonia told Éponine happily, looking down at her bump. “Seb and Mads helped me. So did Desi. I think that was my favourite bit, picking out the name.”

“Sure beats all the nausea and fatigue,” Éponine joked, absently toying about with her little heart-shaped locket and occasionally stealing glances at it. “What name did you choose?”

“Jacob Anthony Abel,” Sonia told her, bouncing on her feet in excitement. “I can’t wait for him to get here.”

“I can’t wait for my Peanut to get here, either.” Éponine looked down at her massive bump, rubbing it tenderly and evoking a few more kicks from Peanut. “I’m really just sick of pregnancy at this point, to be honest. I want this baby _out_ , but I still have a little over a month to go before my goddamn due date.” Looking back up at Sonia, Éponine asked, “When are you due?”

“The twenty-eighth of July,” Sonia told her. “Are you having a boy or a girl, Miss T?”

“I decided to keep it a surprise,” Éponine said, shrugging her shoulders. “I think it would be more fun that way. Enjolras—my boyfriend, you remember him?”

“Yeah, Seb and Maddy won’t shut up about him,” Sonia responded, laughing.

“He and I’ve decided on two different names,” Éponine told Sonia. “Victoire Gabrielle for a girl and Alexandre Hugo for a boy. We’ll just have to wait and see which one it’ll be.” Looking down at her bump for a few moments before meeting Sonia’s green eyes again, Éponine told the girl sincerely, “Good luck with Jacob, Sonia. I know you’ll be a great mom. And just know that you don’t have to give up on any plans to go to college; you have a support system and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help you with your baby.”

“I really do want to go to college, Miss T,” Sonia admitted. “I’m just not sure if I can, what with Jacob.”

“Sure you can,” Éponine assured her. “Like I said, you have a support system. I’m sure Désirée’s parents would be more than happy to help take care of your baby while you and Désirée are at classes.”

“Yeah, I guess they would be,” Sonia said, a little smile on her face. “I’ll seriously think about applying for college, then. I really want to become a journalist.”

“There’s no reason for you to give up on those dreams,” Éponine told her, an encouraging, dimpled smile gracing her lips as she looked at Sonia. “Have a great summer, okay? Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too, Miss T.” Sonia slung her backpack over her shoulder and began to walk back towards the door before stopping just as she was about to exit the room, looking back. “Oh, by the way, I thought you might be interested in knowing what happened two days ago.”

“What happened?” Éponine asked, perking up.

Sonia grinned, bringing out the colour in her emerald eyes. “Sebastian and Maddy got caught making out under the bleachers.”

* * *

Cosette was absolutely _infatuated_ with this baby shower, forcing Éponine to just sit down and relax on the sofa despite the brunette’s protests as she flew about Jehan’s loft, adding finishing touches to the decorations she had managed to string up around the apartment with only an alarmingly large stepladder and Feuilly’s assistance—and Marius’ occasional help—in under two hours. It was still nine in the morning, two hours before the baby shower would actually start, and many of the Amis haven’t actually arrived, the only people in Jehan’s loft being Éponine, Enjolras, Cosette, Marius, Feuilly, and Jehan himself. The entire loft was absolutely covered in soft pastel colours, Cosette having gone all out in the planning of the baby shower, with a long snack table lined up underneath a few windows and a table reserved specifically for gifts near the front door.

Éponine was dressed in a simple long-sleeved, crimson knee-length floral-patterned sundress Cosette had bought for her and insisted that she wear and a pair of worn-out black Converse sneakers, her locket resting against her chest. She had been coddled all morning by Cosette and Jehan, and quite frankly, she was growing sick of just sitting there and watching everyone else do all the work. She wanted to _contribute_ , damn it, she wanted to feel like she had helped make this all come together.

“Can I get up now?” Éponine whined petulantly from her place on the sofa, pouting as Cosette turned her head at the sound of her voice.

“No! We’re almost done, it’s fine!” Cosette called back, teetering dangerously at the top of the stepladder as she attempted to string up the last of the fairy lights, Jehan and Marius attempting to keep the stepladder steady at the foot of it. Éponine groaned and buried her face in her hands, not noticing how Enjolras went to sit down next to her until she felt his arm hesitantly slide around her. Almost immediately, she leaned into him, a childish pout on her face.

“Why won’t they let me help out?” she whined, turning her head to look up into Enjolras’ blue eyes after looking up and down at his outfit—he was wearing a plaid button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top three buttons undone (probably not on purpose, knowing Enjolras—he often legitimately forgot to do up the top three buttons), red Converse sneakers to match her black, and blue jeans. She decided she liked his attire, only wishing she could be wearing something similar although she liked her dress just fine.

“I’m sure they’re just concerned about you overexerting yourself with your condition, ’Ponine,” Enjolras told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Éponine rolled her eyes, remembering how he had said something along those lines all those months ago during Christmas. “I’m _fine_ , Enjolras. I’ve been taking my meds and I’ve been seeing Dr. Bourrienne every two and a half weeks. I’m fine.”

“You better be,” Enjolras said half-jokingly as Éponine laid her head on his shoulder. “I just got off the phone with my parents,” he told her quietly, rubbing up and down her arm. “They’re really excited to meet you, Éponine.”

“Despite the fact that I’ve got Thénardier blood running through my veins?” Éponine quipped, looking up and mustering a smile. His parents were driving in from upstate just for her baby shower; she hoped it would be worth it.

“You’re nothing like your parents,” Enjolras reassured her. “My parents know that.”

“Sure hope they do.” Éponine reached over to grab her mug of tea off the coffee table and bring it to her mouth, gulping the rest of it down. “Are you sure they’ll like me?”

“I’m positive, ’Ponine,” Enjolras affirmed, kissing her forehead once again. “They’ll love you.”

Éponine smiled and placed her empty mug back on the coffee table, looking around to see if anyone was watching and leaning in for a kiss when she saw that nobody was. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile the moment he felt her lips brush his, kissing her back and bringing his hand up to cup her face before they broke apart, just gazing into each other’s eyes with tiny smiles on their faces. Éponine broke eye contact to glance down at her bump, thinking about how they would have Peanut with them in less than a month and realising that holy _shit_ , she was becoming a mother in _less than a month_.

“We’re going to be parents, ’Jolras,” she murmured, only now beginning to fully come to terms with that. “We’re going to be parents in less than a fucking month.” Her breathing grew erratic just from thinking about it. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_.”

“Éponine, breathe.” Enjolras rubbed circles into her back as she slowly calmed down, taking in deep breaths before loudly exhaling, rubbing her bump out of sheer nerves. “I know it’s a lot, but I promise you, we’ll do this parenting thing together.” The corners of his mouth quirked up in the smallest of smiles as he said lightly, “It’s you and me forever now.”

“I don’t think I mind that,” Éponine murmured, lips slowly curving into a smile as she leaned in for a kiss, bringing her hands up to cradle his face and, for once, ignoring the possibility of the others seeing them in such a way, sighing and deepening the kiss when Enjolras readily kissed her back, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her close to him, her bump between them. After several blissful moments, they broke apart, their faces mere inches from each other and a giddy smile on Éponine’s face.

“I see you’re wearing the locket I gave you,” Enjolras murmured, looking down at the silver against the dark fabric with a contented little smile on his face.

“Why wouldn’t I?” One of Éponine’s hands went to gently grasp the little silver heart as she gazed down at it, opening it to look at the tiny photograph and the words inscribed inside. “It’s just so beautiful, Enjolras. Thank you. Are you sure you’re not starting to regret being stuck with me for the rest of our lives?”

Enjolras smiled and kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Éponine felt her cheeks turn pink and looked down at the photograph again, recalling how she had coaxed him into taking the picture with her. “Remember when we took this?” she asked quietly, a smile playing at her lips at the thought. “I told you your future children would appreciate having photos of you smiling.” She looked down at her bump, laughing. “Now here we are.”

Enjolras bit back a laugh and stood up instead, holding his hand out to her. “Want to get a drink?” he asked as she took his hand with a playfully questioning look on her face.

Éponine let him pull her to her feet, wiggling her toes in her loose Converse sneakers. “Lead the way.”

As Éponine and Enjolras made their way to the kitchen to grab some iced tea, Éponine couldn’t help but marvel at how Cosette and Feuilly had managed to decorate the entire massive loft with minimal help in the span of two hours for the baby shower. The decorations were nothing elaborate; on the contrary, it was pretty simplistic, soft pastel colours against the red brick walls, and Éponine absolutely loved it that way. Everything that had to do with the baby shower was in some pastel colour, Cosette having gone for a pastel theme; after grabbing a glass of iced tea, Éponine walked over to the lengthy snack table and looked at the numerous cupcakes tastefully arranged, all with frosting in pale pastel colours. Cosette seemed quite pleased with herself at how she had turned Jehan’s loft into the perfect setting for a baby shower, going over to put an arm around Éponine as they looked around at the decorations together.

“Do you like it, Eppy?” Cosette asked softly, lightly kissing Éponine’s cheek.

Éponine grinned. “I love it, Cosette. Thank you so much.”

A little over an hour later around ten fifteen, the guests began to arrive, Jehan’s loft steadily growing more crowded with each guest that arrived. Éponine and Enjolras hadn’t invited many people—just the Amis, Grantaire’s sister Rachelle, Toby the Yorkie, Javert, Mr. Fauchelevent, Enjolras’ parents, and a few other people they knew from their workplaces. Éponine watched as the presents on the gift table piled high, wondering what could possibly be in each one as almost all the guests filled the room, leaving only Enjolras’ parents who still had yet to arrive. As Éponine looked around at the room, watching the guests all chatting over their drinks and observing how Feuilly was taking pictures with her Polaroid camera, she went over to Enjolras, biting her lip.

“Are your parents going to make it?” she asked, trying not to let her anxiety show through, although traces of her apprehension crept into her dark eyes. Enjolras took her hand and squeezed it in reassurance.

“My mother just texted me,” Enjolras told her quietly. “They got caught in some traffic on the way here, but they’re getting close. Don’t worry, ’Ponine, they’ll be here soon.”

Éponine wasn’t sure if she should be worrying or not, still insanely nervous about meeting Enjolras’ parents. What if they ended up hating her after all? What if they thought she wasn’t good enough for their son? What if, what if, what if?

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she heard the sound of the doorbell fifteen minutes later. Surely it had to be Enjolras’ parents this time; all the other guests were already milling about in the loft, not seeming to have heard the doorbell and continuing to chat over red Solo cups full of punch that Éponine had made sure wasn’t spiked. She looked up at Enjolras, whose blue eyes lit up as he started walking towards the door, and Éponine had no choice but to follow him, bracing herself for what was to come.

She gripped Enjolras’ hand like a lifeline when he opened the door to find his parents standing there, quite a few presents in his father’s arms and a massive smile on his mother’s face. Reluctantly, Éponine let go of Enjolras’ hand so he could embrace his mother, a close-lipped smile on his face as he pulled back to look at his parents.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” he told them with a smile, eyeing the presents in his father’s arms rather warily, wondering why on earth his parents felt so compelled to bring so many gifts. Putting an arm around Éponine, he pulled her close to her side as she plastered a smile on her face, telling his parents with pride creeping into his tone, “Mother, Father, I want you to meet Éponine.”

“That’s me,” Éponine added without thinking, managing a smile as she screamed internally at herself for acting like a fucking moron. She knew all about how first impressions mattered and she did _not_ want to make a terrible first impression, especially with _her boyfriend’s parents_ , no less.

Enjolras’ mother smiled at her and pulled her into an unexpected embrace, telling her, “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Éponine! We’ve heard so much about you.” She pulled back and gave Éponine a smile, her eyes trailing down to the curve of Éponine’s stomach, and Éponine could immediately see that Enjolras had inherited his smile from his mother and instinctively pressed a hand against her abdomen, somewhat insecure about how big she was at this point.

Éponine’s eyes widened in astonishment at the older woman’s words. “You—you have?”

“Yes, our Gabriel is very fond of you,” Enjolras’ mother told her, giving her son a knowing smile as Éponine glanced up at him with an incredulous look on her face, seeing how his cheeks reddened. “By all means, it’s nice to finally meet the mother of our first grandchild. Call me Angela.”

“O-okay.” Éponine was somewhat thrown off by how kind Enjolras’ mother was, having expected an uptight woman to turn her nose up at the sight of her. “It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am. I mean, Angela.” It was weird to be on a first-name basis with her boyfriend’s parents, but Éponine was willing to attempt to get used to it.

Her eyes trailed to the presents in Enjolras’ father’s arms, trying not to look too shocked at the amount of gifts Enjolras’ parents had brought for them. Enjolras’ father cleared his throat and told her affably, “It’s nice to meet you, Éponine. Like Angela said, we’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Antoine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Éponine caught her little slip and immediately corrected herself. “Antoine.”

Angela looked around at the room, perking up at the sight of the gift table. “Is that where we should leave the presents we brought?” she asked.

Enjolras nodded. “Yes, just leave them there.”

When his parents went off, Éponine exhaled, feeling all the tension leave her body as she turned to look up at Enjolras with a smirk on her face. “So they’ve heard a lot about me.” She poked him in the chest, a laugh escaping her lips. “I thought you only mentioned me to them last week in a phone call.”

“I may have mentioned you a few times over the past couple of years,” Enjolras muttered in slight embarrassment, feeling his cheeks flame red at Éponine’s playful stare. After some time, he relented, admitting, “Okay, it was more than a few times, but I couldn’t help myself. You make me happy, ’Ponine. There’s no reason my parents shouldn’t know that. Besides, I’ve established that I’ve had feelings for you for years. Is this really anything new?”

Now it was Éponine’s turn to blush. In her loss for words, she lightly smacked him in the arm to make up for her speechlessness. “Stop, you’re being a sap,” she hissed, although she couldn’t restrain the good-natured grin playing at her lips. Enjolras smiled down at her and leaned in, managing to sneak in a quick kiss before Cosette called for everyone to gather at the centre of the enormous room.

The next hour was a bit of a blur for Éponine—Cosette was a perfect hostess, leading the guests in light-hearted games and just being the ray of sunshine that she was. At some point when the guests were all placing bets on whether the baby would be a boy or a girl, Éponine noticed the buttons Cosette had pinned onto Azelma’s and Gavroche’s shirts—Azelma had received an “aunt-to-be” button while Gavroche had presumably been talked into wearing an “uncle-to-be” button and Éponine couldn’t help but laugh and force them into taking a picture with her, having Feuilly take the picture for them. She hadn’t failed to pick up on the fact that Azelma and Courfeyrac were still ignoring each other, but some time ago, she had resolved not to meddle anymore, so she was just going to leave them alone to sort out their bullshit.

At around fifteen minutes to twelve as everyone else around them ate the lunches Cosette had provided, Éponine found herself having a heart-to-heart with Angela on the sofa, much to her own surprise. She could see that Enjolras had inherited his blue eyes as well as his smile from his mother, though her blonde hair was more yellow than golden like her son’s. Éponine was just glad to have a chance to get to know the grandmother of her child.

“You’ve really raised him well,” Éponine told Angela, glancing over at Enjolras, who was conversing with his father and Combeferre. “I’ve never met a man as kind as he is. Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ , Éponine,” Angela replied gently, a smile on her face. “He’s never been this happy before. You’re a good influence on him. I guess I never really expected to see him in an actual relationship, you know?” She let out a pretty laugh, going on, “Back when he first moved to the city for college, he told me about how he had a crush on Feuilly over there.” Éponine glanced over to where Angela was pointing, seeing Feuilly chatting with Jehan and Musichetta. “It was adorable to hear the way he talked about Feuilly, but that only lasted, what, one, two years? And then he fell for you, and now look at where we are.” Angela gestured towards Éponine’s bump, laughing when the young woman blushed scarlet. “You’re good for each other, Éponine. It’s obvious that you make him happy, and that’s all I want—for my son to be happy.”

“Thank you, Angela.” Éponine looked down at her bump and smiled to herself, rubbing her bump and jumping slightly at the feeling of an unexpected kick from Peanut. They had been subdued for the past forty-five minutes or so and she hadn’t been expecting movement for another hour at least, having been somewhat keeping track of Peanut’s movements. “Oh, shit,” she squeaked out, bringing a hand to cover her mouth at her slip of the tongue.

“What is it?” Angela asked, concern beginning to fill her blue eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Éponine reassured her. “The baby just kicked.”

Angela’s eyes lit up and she scooted closer to Éponine, asking tentatively, “Can I feel it?”

“Be my guest.” Éponine felt Angela place a hand on top of her bump, watching the older woman’s face for that expression people always got whenever they felt Peanut kicking, and sure enough, soon Angela’s entire face lit up at the feeling of her grandchild kicking for her, blue eyes filling up with tears. Éponine tried not to let her concern for the older woman show, wondering if this was how grandparents-to-be typically reacted when feeling their grandchild kick. She assumed it was.

After some time, Éponine found herself being whisked to the centre of the loft by Cosette, who declared it was time to open the presents everyone had brought. Bahorel, Feuilly, Grantaire, Marius, and Enjolras were tasked with carrying the entire fucking gift table to where Cosette had placed Éponine in a plush little armchair at the centre of the loft, surrounded by the guests. They could have just carried the presents over, but _no_ , they had to bring the actual table along. After making a slight face at it, Éponine decided that in the end, it didn’t matter—she wasn’t the one carrying the table and she got to sit in a sweet, bouncy little armchair.

Éponine felt weird with all the attention being on her as she took the first present off the pile, tearing off the wrapping paper to reveal an adorable little unicorn plushie, and so it began.

Getting through all the presents took much longer than Éponine expected, a pile of torn wrapping paper steadily beginning to pile up next to the armchair she was seated in. To her chagrin, she found herself tearing up more than once at the various presents, letting herself cry freely upon receiving a gorgeous foil-stamped book to document Peanut’s milestones in from Musichetta and an enormous photo album filled with pictures of her, Azelma, and Gavroche from the past several years with the latter half of the album empty to make way for future family photographs from her siblings. Jehan had bought Peanut several copies of BabyLit books in complete earnest, much to Éponine’s amusement, and she nearly gasped out loud when she found Grantaire had bought her gift certificates for a newborn photoshoot. Éponine was still surprised at the giant presents she received—an infant car seat from Joly, a baby bean bag from Javert, and a stroller from Mr. Fauchelevent. She was astounded at the sheer amount of onesies and diapers she received from the guests but throughout it all, she reminded herself that the more presents she received, the less she and Enjolras would have to actually buy. She was slightly confused when she received two near-identical monogrammed blankies from Combeferre, both of them impossibly soft and in a deep crimson hue with small black embroidery at the bottom right corner of each blanket which, upon inspection, were the names Éponine and Enjolras had picked out for Peanut—Victoire embroidered on one blanket, Alexandre on the other.

“’Ferre, you do realise we’re going to end up not using one of these, right?” Éponine reminded him, biting her lip. The little blankets seemed pricey and she didn’t want anyone to spend more money than they needed to on her baby.

Combeferre shrugged, giving her a little smile. “It doesn’t matter. I thought it would be cute for Peanut. I don’t mind spending a little extra money.”

Éponine felt tears pooling in her eyes once again and silently berated herself for being so goddamn emotional, giving a watery smile when Combeferre placed a hand on her shoulder and murmuring, “Thanks, ’Ferre.”

Combeferre smiled back at her. “Anytime, Ep.”

Enjolras stood by Éponine’s side for the opening of the last few presents—it seemed that his parents had gone all out to spoil their grandchild, much to the couple’s mild embarrassment. Combeferre had pulled up a chair for Enjolras to sit in towards the end so he wouldn’t have to be standing the whole time and they soon came to the last present.

It was nothing particularly large—the package was soft, and Éponine was curious to see what was inside. Ripping off the purple wrapping paper carelessly and discarding it in the pile of torn wrapping paper by her armchair, she furrowed her brow at the sight of a bright red Elmo plushie.

Éponine examined the stuffed doll, turning it over in her hands in fascination. It seemed to be somewhat old—some parts of the plushie looked like it had been chewed on and the red colour was just a tad bit faded, but other than that, it looked almost new. Éponine was confused as to why Enjolras’ parents had given it to them, turning to look at Enjolras and trying not to let her surprise show when she saw that his blue eyes looked just the slightest bit glassy.

“’Jolras?” she whispered softly, just loud enough for him to hear. He startled, seeming to snap out of his trance as he reached for the doll. Bewildered, Éponine handed the plushie to him, watching intently as he turned it over in his hands.

“Mother…” Enjolras looked up, his blue eyes finding Angela’s as he bit down on his lip, attempting to will away his tears as best as he could, not wishing to make a scene in front of everyone. “I thought I lost this.”

Éponine could barely contain her surprise, about to open her mouth to say something before Angela started to speak.

“I was looking through your old bedroom for things I thought I would bring back for you,” Angela explained, approaching her son as he got up from his chair. “I found your old Elmo inside a box and I thought I would give it to you again. It was your first toy; we gave it to you a couple of weeks after you were born and you never went anywhere without it for the next few years until you lost it when you were five. I thought you might want to give it to your own child. Who knows? Maybe your Peanut will have children of their own and maybe they’ll pass Elmo down to their children too.”

Enjolras was rendered speechless, vaguely recalling how he had dragged this stupid little Elmo doll around with him everywhere, remembering how much he had loved it and how upset he had been when he lost it. The thought of giving it to Peanut as their first toy as his parents had done for him stirred up some overly sentimental feelings in him. Letting his instincts take over for once, he impulsively pulled his mother into a hug, still clutching the Elmo plushie in one hand, feeling tears pricking at his eyes before blinking them away as she hugged him back. Éponine watched with a little smile on her face, feeling a few tears escaping the corners of her eyes at the touching sight. The Amis and the other guests had all fallen silent, rather awed by the sight—Enjolras rarely showed such strong emotions, so they knew this was a big deal to him.

When Enjolras pulled away, he mustered a feeble smile, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. “Thank you, Mother,” he told her quietly, biting down on his lip as Angela smiled back at him.

“Anytime, sweet pea,” Angela replied, laughing when Enjolras made a slight face at the affectionate pet name.

Éponine waited for Enjolras to sit back down next to her before placing a hand on his back, a little smile on her face. “That was really sweet of her,” she whispered to him as he smiled down at the old doll in his hands, hardly able to believe he hadn’t lost it after all. Enjolras nodded, still rather dazed.

“Yeah,” he murmured, running his fingers over the bright red fur of the plushie. “Yeah, it was.”

After some time, Éponine looked up and told everyone, “Well, I guess that’s it for the presents, then!”

“No, wait!” Cosette shrieked, looking as if she had just remembered something. She gestured wildly towards the rest of the Amis as if trying to communicate something to them specifically through wild gesticulations, much to Éponine’s bewilderment, and the next thing she knew, Enjolras was handing the Elmo plushie to her and getting up to join the others, who had gathered near the stairs and seemed to be discussing something before they all darted upstairs, only succeeding in confusing Éponine even further. Gavroche, Azelma, and Bossuet had stayed in the room while the others went upstairs, Bossuet going over to her and telling her to close her eyes. Still confused, Éponine did as she was told, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the others to return, a hand on her bump. It seemed Peanut was impatient as well, judging by the way they were kicking her insides to pieces.

After some time, she heard Bossuet tell her excitedly, “Okay, now open!”

Éponine opened her eyes and nearly choked on her own spit.

Much of the Amis had massive grins on their faces, standing around a box that Éponine instantly knew to be the crib, and from the little picture on the sticker at the top left corner, it was that gorgeous golden-brown crib she had so desperately wanted back when she and Enjolras went to look at cribs in that shop. She had been seriously considering going out and buying a cheaper crib for Peanut but Enjolras had prevented her from doing so every time she spoke aloud of her plans to do so, and though she had been irritated at him for stopping her from doing it each time, it all made sense now.

“Surprise!” Jehan exclaimed happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Éponine tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, much to her mortification, she burst into silent tears, a tearful little smile on her face as she reached up to wipe away her flood of tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“It was all Enjy’s idea,” Grantaire told her, an enormous grin absolutely dominating his face. “He told us about how you really wanted this crib, so he got us all to put in some money towards buying it.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” Joly chimed in. “So… surprise!”

Éponine’s dark eyes found Enjolras’ blue and she saw that he had that soft smile meant just for her on his face, and she felt herself beginning to tear up all over again at the mere thought that he had gotten all the Amis to contribute money towards buying the crib for her. Had it been just the two of them, she would have wrapped him up in a tight hug with no intention of letting go.

“Guys, I—” Éponine sniffled, reaching up to wipe away her tears as the corners of her mouth ticked up in a little dimpled smile. “I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple thank you would suffice,” Courfeyrac supplied teasingly, laughing when Éponine gave him a look.

To Éponine’s slight chagrin, many guests exchanged little “aww’s” of delight at the touching scene unfolding before them and she felt her cheeks redden. Thankfully, Cosette soon took the reins once again and Éponine didn’t have to worry about all the attention being on her. Soon enough, the guests were leaving and Éponine found herself embracing Angela and Antoine before they left for their long drive back upstate.

“Good luck, Éponine,” Angela told her sincerely once she let go of the young woman. “We’re not sure if we’ll be able to make it for the baby’s birth, but we’ll try to make time for it. Our schedule for the next couple of months is tight.”

“That’s okay,” Éponine replied, stiffening slightly when the older woman’s gaze travelled down to her bump once again.

“Make sure our Gabriel takes care of you, okay?” Angela gave Enjolras a look and he nodded dutifully in response. Éponine laughed and nodded along.

“Of course, Mother,” Enjolras replied, feeling his cheeks growing warm.

After exchanging a few more words, Enjolras’ parents went on their way and soon it was just Les Amis left in Jehan’s apartment, surrounded by countless presents that needed to be loaded into the back of Enjolras’ car. After much discussion, everyone else all grabbed something from the mound of presents to make their way downstairs and outside onto the pavement to begin loading the presents into Enjolras’ car, leaving him and Éponine alone in the loft for some time. Without warning, she pulled him into a tight embrace, beginning to tear up again upon thinking about the crib and how he had managed to talk everyone into contributing money towards it.

Enjolras stiffened up when Éponine pulled him into an unexpected hug, her enormous bump getting in the way somewhat; he quickly recovered and embraced her in return, feeling himself smile softly at how she let out a little sob-laugh into his shirt. “Thank you so much, ’Jolras,” she murmured, giggling through her tears. “Thank you…”

Enjolras pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, stroking her hair as he felt a faint kick from Peanut. When she drew back, gazing up into his shining blue eyes, she pulled him down into a kiss, her lips finding his. He melted at the feeling of one of her hands sliding up into his curls, kissing her eagerly, his blood rushing in his ears when she sighed against his lips. He still couldn’t quite believe that she had fallen for him as he had for her, still hardly able to believe that this wasn’t just some insane dream he could be waking up from at any moment. The raw passion and love present in the kiss felt too real for it to be just another dream. By the time they broke apart, their breathing rather shallow, Enjolras reached to cup Éponine’s cheek in one hand, tenderly running his thumb over her dimple as he gazed into her eyes. After some time, he spoke.

“Do you want to get going now?” he asked quietly, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Éponine nodded, grinning up at him. “Come on. Let’s blow this taco stand.”

In her state of exhilaration, all caught up from the events of that day, Éponine forgot about the next few days’ worth of medication awaiting her in the bathroom cabinet back at home.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're nearing the end of this little fic, there are only a few chapters left after this one. maybe five or six, give or take.
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this little passion project of mine and motivating me to keep producing content! your sweet comments make my entire week each time i get one, and writing this has been a journey. what started out as a dare turned into what might be the most epic thing i've ever written, and i'm so happy i got to share this journey with you lovely readers! stay tuned for more!!


	20. Chapter XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty unrelated to this fic, but i've recently posted a small town au one-shot and i'm really proud of it, so if you could go and give it a little bit of love like you have with this little fic, that would be lovely! you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14420106)
> 
> back to this fic: as i've said before, i've done a lot of research for this au, but again, there are still bound to be some inaccuracies, so do understand that i'll be taking artistic liberties in certain aspects of this fic. i hope you've been enjoying and continue to enjoy this fic nonetheless, though! all your sweet comments and words of encouragement mean so much to me

* * *

“So what do you think?”

Éponine and Enjolras stepped back to look at the newly finished nursery, having just finished furnishing and decorating it. For the most part, the nursery did end up having a Winnie the Pooh theme, although many of the stuffed animals neatly arranged in a corner of the crib weren’t themed. Enjolras’ childhood Elmo doll was in Éponine’s hands; they were planning on bringing it along to the hospital with them when she went into labour, which felt like it was going to happen any day now despite the fact that they still technically had three weeks to go.

Éponine put an arm around Enjolras’ waist, looking up to grin at him as he slid an arm around her waist. “I think we did good. I love it.”

She had finished painting the nursery a week ago, having painted over the pale green walls so it would be a pleasant shade of creamy white before painting an adorable mural of Pooh and Piglet from the original storybooks on one wall along with a quote in the centre of it all that she and Enjolras had chosen together: “Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” The crib was situated in the centre of the wall opposite from the mural, a mobile having been placed above it; Enjolras had just finished putting the crib together earlier that morning. Cream-coloured curtains had replaced the pale green curtains Éponine had had back when she still resided in the room, a plush glider chair for nursing having been placed in a corner adjacent to the window along with the baby bean bag Javert had given them at the baby shower. A long dresser that matched the crib had been placed underneath the window, a little lamp having been placed on top of it and the rest of the space having been left empty for framed photographs. On the wall above the crib was the painting of Les Amis in front of Hogwarts at Universal Studios, taking up a good portion of the space on the formerly empty wall; Éponine had left the space surrounding it empty for future framed photographs.

Éponine sat down on the carpeted floor with some difficulty due to the sheer size of her bump, folding her legs to the side once she succeeded in lowering herself onto the floor as Enjolras did the same. She laid her head on his shoulder once they were sitting down together on the floor, looking around at the nursery and marvelling at their own work; she shivered involuntarily when he slid his arm around her, scooting closer to him.

“I’m kind of scared, ’Jolras,” she murmured, letting out a deep sigh at the feeling of a dull kick from Peanut. “Just think about it—three more weeks and then we’ll be _parents_ to an actual _human_.” She looked up at the ceiling, sighing once again. “Jesus, we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Enjolras rested his hand against her bump, rubbing it absent-mindedly as he turned to kiss the top of her head. She was thirty-seven weeks along now and he had been becoming increasingly unbearable with his constant coddling, frequently telling her that she needed to rest more as her due date grew nearer, especially with her condition. He was beginning to think twice about it now with how she kept giving him dirty looks whenever he told her to get some more rest, but that wasn’t enough to keep him from being concerned about her, especially with the preeclampsia. He tried his best to make sure she took her medication each day, but he couldn’t very well stand in the doorway to the bathroom and watch her taking her meds, knowing that Éponine had boundaries, so he could only take her word for it.

“I wonder what Peanut will look like,” Éponine mused, mostly to herself, laughing a bit. She kept picturing a mini Enjolras, with his eyes and his hair and his smile, and she had seen his baby pictures—after snooping around for a little bit, she had found an old photo album in the bottom drawer of his dresser and had insisted on looking through it despite his protests, which had led to her constantly cooing over how cute Enjolras looked growing up and frequently making remarks about how she hoped their Peanut would look like him.

“I hope they look like you,” Enjolras said, kissing the top of her head once again as she blushed pink.

“Nah, I hope they’ll look like you,” Éponine contradicted, feeling herself smile at the feeling of him burying his face in her hair and kissing the top of her head.

Enjolras chuckled softly and pulled her closer to him, murmuring with a teasing edge to his voice, “If you were so set on a Winnie the Pooh theme, why did you do a painting of all of us at Hogwarts?”

“I started painting that before I got knocked up,” Éponine replied, pretending to glower at him.

“Still.” Enjolras pressed another kiss against her hair once again. “Hogwarts, ’Ponine? And you didn’t want to do a Harry Potter theme?”

“Hater.”

Enjolras let out a real laugh this time, loud and hearty, sighing contentedly as they sat there on the carpeted floor together, just content to be in each other’s arms. Éponine had been complaining of contractions for some time now but neither of them saw any reason to worry; they still had three weeks to prepare themselves for parenthood. They would figure it all out together.

“A Harry Potter theme would’ve been hard to do,” Éponine pointed out after a few moments of blissful silence. “We wouldn’t be able to decide since you’re a Hufflepuff and I’m a Gryffindor, but who are we to assume Peanut’s going to be either? For all we know, they could be in any of the other two houses!” She threw her hands up into the air dramatically for emphasis, eliciting a chuckle from Enjolras. “So yeah, that’s why I didn’t choose a Harry Potter theme.”

“Fair enough.”

The two of them just sat there on the floor for God knows how long, contenting themselves to gaze at the nursery their baby was to reside in. Éponine had placed the starry nightlight Cosette had given her at her baby shower at the other end of the dresser, opposite from the lamp, with a little sound machine from Jehan and the baby monitor they received from Bossuet. The other baby monitor had been placed in Éponine and Enjolras’ room beforehand on their nightstand. After a while, Éponine spoke again.

“Enjolras?”

He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement upon hearing her speak his name. “Yes?”

“You’re not going to change your mind at the last minute, will you?” Éponine’s tone was calm but guarded and Enjolras could tell she was trying to keep the fear from showing. “Am I tying you down with this whole baby thing? Honestly, I was surprised you didn’t run away screaming when I first told you I’m pregnant.”

She felt her heart flutter when he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head once again in reassurance before he murmured, “Éponine, I promise you aren’t tying me down. Why would I abandon you and our Peanut? I got you pregnant. The least I could do is stay by your side no matter what happens.”

“You kind of make it sound like a burden…” Éponine trailed off, toying with a part of the carpet, rolling a tiny bit of it between her fingers and looking down at her massive bump.

“I swear it’s not a burden,” Enjolras corrected himself, silently scolding himself for his poor wording. “I really do want to raise Peanut with you, ’Ponine. We’re in this together, remember?”

“You sure you don’t mind being stuck with me for the rest of our lives?” Éponine’s tone had taken a slightly lighter turn as she nudged him, teasing. “I can get insufferable, you know.”

“Oh, do I know,” Enjolras replied dryly, letting out a little indignant noise when she elbowed him in the ribs. “I don’t mind. You’re the only one I want to spend my life with, even when you’re being a brat.”

“I’m a grown-ass woman,” Éponine protested, although her cheeks were dusted with a pink blush at what he had said before he ruined it by calling her a brat. “I’m not _that_ annoying, pretty boy.”

Enjolras gave her a look, tilting an eyebrow. Éponine sighed and relented, admitting, “Okay, maybe sometimes I can be a bit of a brat, but only sometimes!”

Enjolras chuckled and kissed the top of her head again. “It doesn’t matter, really. You’re the only one I can see myself spending the rest of my life with and it’ll always be you and me, even when you’re being insufferable or when I’m being overbearing. We’re adults, we’ll always sort things out.” He stroked her hair absent-mindedly, quietly murmuring, “We’re going to last, ’Ponine. I’m not going to leave you and Peanut. I promise I won’t. Unconditional love is what will make us last. You aren’t tying me down; you aren’t being a burden. I really do want to do this with you, Éponine, I never want you to think that I’m only staying out of necessity.”

Éponine lifted her head to smile up at him, leaning in for a kiss, her lips finding his. Enjolras reached up to cup her cheek in one hand, kissing her back and trying to communicate everything that he couldn’t quite put into words with the movement of his lips against hers and the little moan of her name that escaped his throat as he deepened the kiss, feeling her hand sliding up into his hair, her fingers tangling in his curls. It was unbelievable how much he loved her.

The only problem was working up the courage to actually say it out loud to her.

Enjolras was in a slight daze by the time they broke apart, blue eyes finding Éponine’s brown and seeing the soft dimpled smile on her face. He smiled back at her, his thumb tracing the dimple in her cheek as she giggled softly at the touch. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he murmured, watching her cheeks flush pink.

“I do, actually.” Éponine brought her hand up to her chest to fidget with the locket that rested just below the neckline of her wine-red tank top, looking down at it and managing to open it with one hand to look at the picture and inscription inside. “Maybe I can replace this picture with a picture of us with Peanut once they’re born,” she mused.

Enjolras pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Whatever you want.”

After some time, he suggested quietly, “Do you want to go watch a movie or something? Your call. Maybe we could go on that John Hughes binge you mentioned wanting to go on earlier.”

Éponine looked up to meet his eyes, grinning at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Éponine was _bored_. So incredibly, unbelievably bored.

She had made the mistake of telling Enjolras about how she wasn’t feeling too well a few days ago, which of course led to him forcing her to rest far more often than she thought she needed to, constantly fussing over her despite her protests and insistence that she was just fine. Her complaints didn’t keep him from going all papa bear, making absolute certain that she was getting the amount of rest he seemed to think she needed. Honestly, she should have seen this coming from ten miles away.

So now here she was, lying on her left side in their bed with nothing but her phone in her hand and Peanut in her womb to keep her company, classical music Enjolras had insisted on putting on for Peanut playing from the speaker on the bedside table, completely tuckered out and waiting for Enjolras to get back from the grocery store. She couldn’t deny that she hadn’t been in the best shape lately—she was constantly exhausted and had been getting frequent headaches and cramps now that she was a little under two weeks away from her due date. She _hated_ how bloated she looked, her enormous bump getting in the way of goddamn _everything_ , and she just wanted to get this damn baby out. She had made sure to take that morning’s medication after Enjolras refused to stop pestering her about it and was now simply contenting herself to lie on her side in bed and scroll through Instagram on her phone while feeling the occasional movement from Peanut here and there.

She felt a corner of her mouth tick up in a smile at the sight of a new picture Cosette had posted—it was a selfie of her and Marius in Central Park, where they were taking advantage of the plentiful sunshine and having a picnic. A pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses took up half of Cosette’s heart-shaped face, her wavy blonde hair framing her face and a little self-satisfied smile on her face as Marius grinned for the camera, green eyes sparkling and ginger quiff windswept. The caption read “enjoying the married life!!!!!!” followed by a string of various heart emojis and kissy faces, much to Éponine’s amusement. Chuckling to herself at the picture, Éponine scrolled on and stopped short upon seeing a picture of Courfeyrac posted by none other than Azelma, the caption consisting of only a series of sunglasses emojis and several more… suggestive emojis.

Huh. It seemed like they were back together again, if one could even call it being together.

Éponine shook it off, reminding herself that it wasn’t any of her business and scrolling on to see the next picture, which was another picture taken from the album of seventeen trillion photos of Toby, posted onto Grantaire’s personal account instead of the one he had created for Toby. It was Toby looking adorably angry at the camera, and Éponine had no doubt that Grantaire had probably been laughing his ass off as he took the picture. Smiling to herself and scrolling on, she lost track of time, tuning out the Beethoven playing in the background and just looking through her friends’ Instagram posts as she waited for Enjolras to return.

A sharp pain in her back shot up her spine like fire and she winced, adjusting her position slightly in an attempt to become more comfortable. Her contractions had been pretty spaced out as of late and she didn’t feel the need to call Dr. Bourrienne yet, although she was seriously beginning to consider calling the doctor and begging her to induce labour so she wouldn’t have to put up with any more of this _hell_ that was pregnancy. Éponine shifted onto her other side and let out a deep sigh, feeling an ache in her back and the beginnings of another headache.

“What do you think, Peanut?” she crooned to her bulging stomach, rubbing it gently and feeling slight movement from Peanut. “You’re going to be here soon! It feels so weird—I’ve been carrying you for almost nine months now and you’re going to be here soon. Your room is all ready for you and I promise you’ll never want for anything. Your daddy and I love you so much, baby. Your aunts and uncles do too. We can’t wait for you to get here.” Cursing under her breath as she shifted once again, readjusting her position on the bed and propping a pillow up under her back, she murmured happily, “I think I’m the most impatient one out of all of us for you to come, although that probably has to do with the fact that I’m the one you’re growing inside of right now.”

In the end, she knew the frequent headaches and the debilitating nausea and fatigue would all be worth it. She and Enjolras would be blessed with a little baby of their own, and she swore she wouldn’t make the mistakes her own parents had made. She was going to make sure Peanut never felt like they had been a mistake or a burden, determined to love this child with all of her goddamn heart.

The distant sound of the door opening shook her out of her thoughts and she propped herself up, sliding off the bed to sidle out of the bedroom to meet Enjolras at the door. She found him carrying the reusable grocery bags they had bought some time ago and was just about to help him with them before he stopped her from doing so.

“’Ponine, you’re only a week and five days away from your due date,” Enjolras reminded her, carrying the groceries into the kitchen and placing them all on the counter with a sigh. “These are heavy; you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

“I’m _huge_ ,” Éponine bemoaned, scrunching her face up at him. “It’s all your goddamn fault that I look like a fucking whale.” She climbed up onto the counter to perch herself at the edge of it with the help of a step stool, nearly giving Enjolras a heart attack as she did so. When she had been painting the nursery, he had caught her nearly toppling over after standing on a chair to reach the upper parts of the wall and though she had been laughing about it, he had nearly passed out from how careless she had been. It worried him to see how blasé she seemed to be about her pregnancy, especially with her condition, which had contributed to him pouncing on the opportunity to force her into getting more rest in the past few days after she informed him of how she wasn’t feeling that well.

“You still look perfect, ’Ponine,” Enjolras informed her candidly, placing the milk and yogurt Éponine had demanded he get in the fridge.

“But I feel so gross and ugly and bloated,” Éponine whined, making grabby hands at him in an attempt to beckon him towards her. Enjolras chuckled and made his way towards her, kind of standing between her legs as she placed her arms around his neck. “I must look like a mess. An ugly, bloated, pregnant mess.”

“Éponine, don’t say that. You still look as beautiful as you always do,” Enjolras told her softly, smiling when her cheeks flushed pink at his words. “You’ve always been beautiful. You’re still going to be just as beautiful after Peanut is born.”

Éponine looked down, her eyes trailing to her bump and a small smile playing at her lips. “Shut up.”

Enjolras grinned and leaned in for a kiss, his lips capturing hers as a little sigh escaped her lips. Almost immediately, though, Éponine let out a little yelp, abruptly pulling away from him and reaching behind her to place a hand on her back, groaning.

“Fuck…” She arched her back, cursing at that familiar sharp pain she felt once again. “These contractions have been killing me.”

Enjolras’ brow furrowed in concern at her words, asking, “Contractions? How far apart have they been?”

“Relax, pretty boy, they’re still pretty spaced out,” Éponine assured him, patting his shoulder. “Shitty, but spaced out. I still don’t feel that good, though. Bad headache and back pains.”

“You want to go get some ice cream?” Enjolras offered, helping her down from the counter with much difficulty due to how _heavy_ she was, almost having a heart attack again when he nearly dropped her. “There’s this new place around the corner I thought you might like, just a couple of buildings away from the grocery store.”

“Ice cream sounds great.” Éponine smiled affectionately up at him, bringing a rosy red blush to his cheeks from the way she was looking at him and making his heart stutter in his chest. Quickly, he recovered, clearing his throat and gesturing at the clothes she was wearing.

Éponine looked down at her attire, noticing as if for the first time that she was wearing nothing but one of Enjolras’ shirts and maternity leggings and laughing. “I think I’ll go change first,” she told him, pulling him down for a quick kiss before darting back to their bedroom to grab some clothes. Taking advantage of the little time he had, Enjolras began to unload the rest of the groceries while waiting for Éponine to change.

Back in their room, Éponine was rummaging about in their closet for something to wear when she felt a sharp pain in her head, letting out a little cry at the fire shooting through her head before it went away as soon as it came. Quickly recovering, she straightened up again, finding a pair of maternity jean shorts Musichetta had bought for her and a navy blue tank top that she had been rather self-conscious about at first when buying it due to the amount of cleavage it displayed. She wondered if she had really felt that pain shooting through her head like fire or if it was just a figment of her imagination.

The pain in her back had increased considerably by the time she made her way out to the living room but she paid no mind to it, sliding her feet into a pair of Birkenstock sandals before Enjolras opened the door for her. The two of them began to make their way down the front steps of the townhouse, stepping out and letting the sunshine envelop them, Éponine feeling a sharp sting that felt much like a period cramp but worse. Was this another contraction? She stopped in the middle of the steps, placing a hand on the swell of her abdomen and desperately hoping the pain would dissipate.

But it only got worse.

Enjolras had just noticed that she had stopped and he turned to look at her, his face contorting in worry when Éponine drew a sharp breath, gripping her stomach and whimpering softly as she bent over, her other hand gripping the concrete banister of the steps as if her life depended on it. This contraction was worse than any she had experienced before and she inhaled sharply as the pain increased, only further worrying Enjolras as she gripped the banister, her breathing heavy.

“’Ponine?” His tone was worried, almost frantic, but he had to keep himself together for the both of them, forcing himself to stay calm despite the look of utter pain on Éponine’s face.

That was when she felt an odd popping sensation between her legs.

Éponine looked down as a gush of warm fluid dampened her shorts and trickled down her legs, slowly dripping onto the concrete steps, and she let out a barely audible gasp at the sight of a tiny puddle beginning to gather between her feet.

Her water had broken.

“Fuck,” she whispered, looking up to see if Enjolras had seen it too before pain seized her body, sharp and brutal and blinding, almost to a point where she felt as if she needed to stoop down in a weak attempt to ease the pain. Her vision was dancing before her eyes as she grew faint and dizzy and she struggled to keep herself standing up straight, eyes desperately searching for Enjolras. “’Jolras…”

Enjolras’ blue eyes widened in alarm when she started to look as if she was about to topple forward, catching her in record time so she wouldn’t fall down the stairs and guiding her onto the pavement. “Stay here,” he whispered, making sure she had a firm grip on the banister before rushing back inside to grab his car keys, barely spending five seconds inside before rushing back out to meet her. She had tears in her eyes by the time he helped her into the car and buckled her in before getting in himself, buckling himself in and starting the car, beginning to drive.

“It hurts, ’Jolras,” she whimpered, tears beginning to run down her face as the contraction finally passed. She drew a deep breath, the pain going away for a little while as Enjolras drove exactly the speed limit in their rush to reach the hospital. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Just breathe, ’Ponine,” he coached, slamming on the brakes when the light turned red. Thankfully, it was the middle of the day on a Thursday and traffic was pretty bearable; he hoped it wouldn’t take long to reach the hospital. “Can you call ’Ferre and put him on speaker for me, please?”

Éponine did as she was asked, taking advantage of the time in between contractions to take Enjolras’ phone and call Combeferre, putting him on speaker once he picked up on the second ring. _“Enjolras? What is it?”_

“’Ponine is in labour and we need you to call everyone and tell them to gather at the hospital,” Enjolras replied when Éponine held the phone up to his face so he could be heard better. She marvelled at how calm he was despite it all, letting out a cry of pain when another contraction hit her and nearly dropping the phone.

 _“Éponine’s in labour? But it’s still, what, two weeks before—”_ She could just picture Combeferre’s eyes widening at the other end as he frantically rushed to grab his things, and despite the debilitating pain that was ripping through her body, she smiled weakly at the mental image. _“Where are you?”_

“We’re on our way to the hospital!” Éponine shouted before Enjolras could reply. “’Jolras just nearly ran a red light! Can you please hurry up?” She whimpered and almost doubled over in the passenger seat when the pain worsened, the road ahead going in and out of focus as an odd tingling sensation rose to her head.

 _“I’m on my way,”_ Combeferre assured them both. _“I’ll call the others.”_

“Oh, by the way!” Éponine screeched, wondering why the hell she felt so compelled to yell when Combeferre could probably hear her just fine. “Can you go to our place and grab Enjolras’ old Elmo doll? I know you have a key, please get it, I want it to be the first toy Peanut has and—”

 _“I’ll get it, I’ll get it,”_ Combeferre assured her, calm as can be. Well, at least someone was.

“Okay, ’Ferre, we’ll meet you at the hospital,” Enjolras called before Éponine hung up, placing the phone in one of the cup holders by the front seats and placing a hand on her abdomen, drawing sharp, deep breaths to try and alleviate the pain.

“How the hell are you so calm?!” Éponine managed to sputter out once the contraction passed, staring incredulously at Enjolras as he drove ahead.

“I’m really not,” Enjolras contradicted, rounding a corner. “But one of us has to at least act calm, right? We’ll get through this, ’Ponine, just breathe.”

She tried to do as he suggested, crying out once again when another contraction hit her, a sharp, tight pain seizing her in the abdomen. Tears ran down her cheeks as her vision swam before her, growing more light-headed by the moment.

Something was wrong.

Was she supposed to be this dizzy? She had never heard of pregnant people being so light-headed they couldn’t sit up straight when going into labour, but maybe it wasn’t just her.

Éponine ignored it, breathing heavily when the pain temporarily left her body, gripping her stomach like her life depended on it. “Enjolras, we better be fucking near the hospital at this point,” she growled through clenched teeth, groaning at the pain in her back.

“We’re almost there, ’Ponine,” he told her, trying his best to be soothing despite how panicked he was. “Breathe, okay? You’re doing great.”

Éponine whimpered as another contraction ripped through her body, worse than any before, nearly blinding her with pain as she doubled over in her seat, gripping her abdomen. Tears streamed down her cheeks at how much everything hurt as she struggled for breath, her breathing coming out short and shallow. Enjolras stole a sideways glance at her and his heart broke at how much pain she was in, wishing he could hold her and whisper words of reassurance in her ear to tell her everything would be all right as he drove them into the hospital parking lot, finding the nearest empty spot before getting out and helping her out.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Enjolras helped Éponine towards the hospital entrance, slowly walking with her when she cried out again, doubling over in pain as another contraction hit her, a wave of dizziness washing over her from the pain. Her vision swam and her head was spinning and she doubted that she would be able to make it to the hospital entrance without passing out. “We’re going to make it. Just breathe with me, ’Ponine.”

Éponine nodded, continuing on with him towards the hospital entrance and trying not to let her knees buckle beneath her as she trooped on, feeling the tears pouring down her face at the feeling of another contraction tearing through her, the pain almost too much to bear.

_Peanut… You’re going to be here soon. You’re going to be with Mommy and Daddy soon. Hang in there, Peanut._

* * *

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Éponine was focused on Peanut’s steady heartbeat, listening to the foetal monitor for her baby’s heartbeat as she propped herself up on the delivery bed, her vision swimming before her as she grew even dizzier. Upon being admitted into the hospital, she had been changed into a flimsy hospital gown and hooked up to the foetal monitor she was listening to right now as her contractions grew closer together. Enjolras was standing by her side, his hand in hers as the doctors and nurses bustled about, Dr. Bourrienne checking for dilation.

“It hurts, Enjolras,” Éponine whimpered as her body was seized with unbelievable pain as another contraction hit her, nearly crushing Enjolras’ hand in hers and making him wince. He pushed the dampened hair off her forehead, pressing a kiss to her temple and noticing the beads of sweat dotting her olive skin. “Fuck!”

He tried not to flinch when she squeezed his hand even more, knowing that whatever pain he was feeling in his hand couldn’t possibly compare to the pain Éponine was in right now. Tears streamed down her face as she got through the worst of this particular contraction, breathing heavily once it had gone and her brown eyes finding his blue.

“Is everyone here?” she asked feebly, reaching up with her free hand to wipe some of the tears off her face. “Can you check for me?” Dr. Bourrienne had told them that she was only dilated to three centimetres as of right now, but she suspected that Éponine would be giving birth before sundown. It was five o’clock now and they had been at the hospital for three hours or so ever since abandoning their initial plans to go for ice cream after her water broke.

Enjolras nodded and did as he was told, letting go of her hand and trudging out into the hallway to make his way out into the waiting room, cradling the hand Éponine had practically crushed in his other hand and wincing. He was beginning to seriously think she had broken a bone as he walked to the waiting room, where many of the Amis had gathered; he noticed that Marius, Cosette, Courfeyrac, and Gavroche still had yet to arrive.

Combeferre got up to walk over to Enjolras with Elmo in his hands, asking, “Any baby yet?”

Enjolras shook his head. “She’s only dilated to three centimetres, but the doctors say she’s likely to give birth before sundown.” He looked around at the anxious faces of his friends, rather unnerved by the fact that all eyes were on him. “I think she might have broken my hand,” Enjolras confided, showing Combeferre his bruised left hand and grimacing at how Combeferre winced at the sight.

“Is she all right, though?” Combeferre enquired anxiously. “I mean, besides the pain that comes with labour, obviously.”

Enjolras’ brow furrowed as he thought back to some of the things she had said earlier. “Now that I think of it, she told me she’s been feeling light-headed. Is that normal?”

Combeferre pressed his lips together, trying to think back to some things he had learned in his med courses. “Do you think it has to do with the preeclampsia?” he suggested at last, his voice low so nobody else would hear.

Enjolras turned white at the realisation that it could very well have something to do with Éponine’s condition. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But I’ve—I’ve been making sure she took her medication.”

“Medication doesn’t necessarily make it go away,” Combeferre reminded Enjolras quietly. “It does lower the risk of something happening, but it doesn’t make her condition disappear. In her case, the only cure is childbirth.”

Enjolras nodded, remembering how Dr. Bourrienne had said the same thing during that appointment when they first found out Éponine had developed preeclampsia. “I think I should get back to her,” he told Combeferre under his breath, beginning to speed-walk back to the delivery room and forgetting about the doll as Combeferre took his seat beside Feuilly in the waiting room just as Marius and Cosette rushed in, finding seats near the rest of the Amis as they all waited for Courfeyrac and Gavroche to arrive.

Éponine’s face was contorted in pain by the time Enjolras reached the delivery room once again and he was just about to rush to her side before he noticed a puddle of what looked suspiciously like vomit on the floor beside the delivery bed. He made his way to the other side, letting her take his hand as another contraction ripped through her like fire, making her cry out.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed, evidently referring to the vomit on the floor. “I just—I—” She cried out once again, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and blurring her already blurred vision even further as she squeezed Enjolras’ hand hard, gripping it like a lifeline.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, ’Ponine,” he whispered softly to her, kissing her temple and wiping some sweat off her forehead. “Hang on, okay? I’m here.”

Dr. Bourrienne made her way over to them, her face partially obscured by a mask. “She’s dilated to five centimetres now,” she told them grimly after stooping to check. “This baby’s coming no matter what.” She turned to Éponine, asking, “Éponine? Can you hear me?”

She nodded weakly. She could hear Dr. Bourrienne just fine, but something was wrong with her vision—the people surrounding her seemed to be going in and out of focus, the ceiling lights nearly blinding her as another painful contraction seized her body. What the fuck was happening with her? Why was she so tired? Was this normal?

She just wanted to sleep. All she wanted was for the pain to stop.

Éponine gripped Enjolras’ hand as she got through the worst of that contraction, tears washing down her face and dripping onto her thin hospital gown. “It hurts, ’Jolras,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she pulled him closer to her. “Everything hurts. It hurts so fucking much.”

“I’m sorry, ’Ponine,” he whispered, his heart breaking even further at how much pain she was in. “You’ll get through this.”

She screamed in agony when another contraction overtook her, this one a million times worse than any contraction before, and she crushed Enjolras’ hand as she attempted to breathe through it, lights dancing behind her eyes and making her vision swim before her. She squeezed her eyes shut, sweat beading her forehead, before she opened her eyes again, focusing on the sound of Peanut’s heartbeat on the foetal monitor, which seemed to be growing more distant by the moment, and searching desperately for Enjolras’ eyes. She soon fixated on them, finding the blue of his eyes rather calming as the contraction passed, her vision becoming unfocused. She fought to stay awake, telling herself that it would all be worth it in the end.

She felt as if she was growing weaker by the moment but she fought to stay conscious, brown eyes fixing on Enjolras’ blue as his face drifted in and out of focus. Feeling the odd urge to crack a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, she murmured with a feeble little smile, “I guess if this was some shitty movie, this would be the part where I scream and yell at you about how we’re never having sex again.”

Enjolras let out a weak laugh as she grimaced and crushed his hand once again when another contraction ripped through her body. “Please don’t.”

Dr. Bourrienne gave them both consistent updates on how much she had dilated, telling Éponine that she would let her know when to begin pushing. Éponine felt the pain alleviate, if only slightly, by talking to Enjolras through it all, no matter how weak she felt herself getting. Groaning and crying out when another contraction tore through her like fire, she held on to Enjolras’ hand, finding comfort in the feeling of his fingers intertwined with hers.

“Dr. Bourrienne just said you’re dilated to nine centimetres,” Enjolras whispered in her ear, wiping some of the sweat off her forehead as she breathed through the end of another contraction. “You’re almost ready to go.”

It took all the energy left in Éponine to muster a smile at him. “Can you believe it?” She let out a feeble laugh, gesturing to her bump. “We’re going to be parents soon. Well, hopefully soon.” She cried out in torment at another contraction, Dr. Bourrienne checking for further dilation and looking back up.

“You’re fully dilated, Éponine,” the doctor told her. “You’re just about ready to push. I want you to push whenever you feel like you’re ready, all right?”

Éponine nodded feverishly, stringy brown hair plastered to her forehead with sweat and tear tracks streaking her cheeks. Enjolras didn’t think her iron grip on his hand could grow any tighter, but it did, and it took all he had to keep himself from visibly flinching at the feeling of her _crushing_ his hand. How could a person with such small hands nearly break his considerably bigger hands?

“It hurts,” she whimpered again, nearly breaking down in tears once more. “I just want Peanut to come.”

“I know, Éponine.” He wiped the sweat off her forehead and kissed her temple once again, remembering all they had been through in the past nine months. “I’m sorry there isn’t much I can do for you right now, but you’re doing amazing, ’Ponine. I’m so proud of you.”

Éponine closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as that same tingling sensation rose to her head, making her head spin. She had to keep it together for Peanut. She had to fight to stay conscious no matter how light-headed she was feeling.

She started to push, squeezing Enjolras’ hand so hard he heard a knuckle pop, the joint popping with a sickening crack, and it was all he could do to keep himself from shouting out at the sharp pain that went shooting through his hand. He was almost certain she had fractured a bone, but he bit down on his tongue, thinking that staying silent about it was the least he could do for his Éponine, who was in such unimaginable, inconceivable pain right now.

A scream was ripped from Éponine’s throat at the feeling of a burning, stretching sensation between her legs, startling everyone around her as Dr. Bourrienne looked under the sheet. “I can see your baby’s head,” she told Éponine and Enjolras from under the sheet. “They’re crowning. Push when you feel the urge and breathe when you don’t, okay?”

Éponine nodded weakly, struggling to catch her breath as Enjolras stood there beside her, feeling helpless. He wished there was some way he could transfer all her pain to his body so he could help alleviate her pain.

“Éponine, breathe with me,” he coached, wiping sweat off her forehead once again. “In. Out.”

Éponine matched her breathing with Enjolras’ when _fire_ went shooting up her spine as she pushed once again, feeling dizzy and faint as she cried out at the burning feeling between her legs. Soon enough, the burning feeling passed and she gasped for air while Enjolras called a nurse over to ask for a cool washcloth to place on the back of her neck. She drew in a sharp breath, chest heaving as Enjolras kissed her forehead.

“You’re doing amazing, Éponine,” he whispered to her. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

She mustered a wan smile, hearing Dr. Bourrienne call out encouragingly from under the sheet, “The head is almost out! You’re doing great, Éponine! Enjolras, keep distracting her!”

Éponine struggled to stay conscious despite how light-headed she was, wondering if this had anything to do with her preeclampsia. Nevertheless, she persisted, giving another huge push and feeling tears running down her face before Enjolras wiped much of them away with his hand. It took all she had to smile up at him through her tears, whispering, “Thank you for being here with me.”

Enjolras smiled and leaned down to press his lips to hers in a quick, tender kiss before he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’re doing great, ’Ponine. Breathe with me, okay?”

She nodded, matching her breathing to his before giving another push, her face contorting in pain as she did so. Dr. Bourrienne called out, “You’re almost there, Éponine! Your baby is almost out!”

Despite it all, Éponine giggled at the thought of getting to meet Peanut soon after all these months of carrying them. She gave another push, groaning as she did so and feeling that odd tingling sensation in her head yet again as she gripped Enjolras’ hand, vaguely hearing him whisper words of encouragement into her ear. Her giggly smile soon morphed into a frown when she realised Enjolras’ voice seemed to be becoming more and more distant, his words blending together.

“One more push, Éponine!” Dr. Bourrienne encouraged. It took all Éponine had to understand what the doctor had just said, a look of confusion and slight panic crossing her face at how everything was starting to sound as if she was listening from underwater. “One more push and your baby will be out! Whenever you feel like it!”

With all the effort she had left, she gave another big push, the only thing on her mind being the thought of finally meeting her child when she suddenly went rigid.

What the fuck was going on?

Her entire body was stiffening up and her muscles were contracting, her back and neck arching. Another agonised scream was ripped from her throat at the feeling of her vocal cords contracting, struggling to breathe as her eyes rolled around painfully in their sockets. She had lost control of her body and she struggled to keep her eyes on Enjolras, whose face was contorted in fear and anguish. She jerked around, unable to understand anything the doctors and nurses and Enjolras were saying. Their mouths were moving but all she could hear was gibberish. She could feel saliva dribbling out of her mouth but was unable to do anything to stop it.

She was convulsing.

The whole world was convulsing.

The last thing she heard was the distant sound of the strangled wails of a baby before everything went black.


	21. Chapter XXI

* * *

Enjolras watched in horror as Éponine convulsed on the delivery bed before she went unconscious and the next thing he knew, he was being booted out of the delivery room, the door slamming shut behind him as the doctors rushed to her. All he could do was watch through the small pane of glass that served as a window in the door, his heart pounding in his chest as the doctors rushed around, trying to stabilise Éponine. He could see a nurse hurriedly carrying the wailing baby to a corner of the room to get them cleaned up before he looked back at the bed Éponine was on, and he felt his heart tearing apart in his chest at how the doctors were hooking her up to a heart rate monitor as they rushed about, the whole scene a blur before his eyes. He felt tears pooling in his eyes and did little to keep them from falling, letting them run down his face as he watched helplessly through the little window in the door, unable to do anything.

He hated it.

He hated being incapable of helping out, he loathed how he was just standing out here in the hallway with a dull ache in his left hand while Éponine and their Peanut were inside, very likely in pain a million times worse than he was in right now. It pained him to watch the doctors rushing to help Éponine, but for some reason, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. It hurt him to think about how much pain their precious Peanut was possibly in right now while he stood outside, unable to do anything about it. If he had just used a fucking condom on the night of his birthday, he wouldn’t be standing outside the delivery room in tears today.

Enjolras let himself sob, angry tears streaming steadily down his face as he beat at the wall, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible in his fit of rage. He was responsible for all this. He was the reason Éponine was in so much pain right now, the reason the doctors were racing to stabilise her in the delivery room as he wept.

He loathed himself for it.

He felt like yelling and screaming as he pressed his forehead against the wall and struggled to catch his breath, angry at himself for being the reason Éponine had to go through all of this, all this pain she never even deserved. She had been through enough already and yet here she was, in even more pain, all because of him. He paid no heed to how a doctor passing by shot him a look of concern upon seeing him in such a state, continuing to struggle for air through his shaky sobs while softly beating at the wall with his fist.

“Enjolras?”

He looked up at the sound of a voice, seeing Azelma standing there in the hallway and growing bewildered. He made no effort to wipe away his tears as he looked at her through watery, red-rimmed blue eyes, wondering what the hell she was doing in the delivery ward.

“What—what are you doing here?” he asked, brow furrowing as Azelma took a few hesitant steps towards him before stopping in her tracks. “How did you get them to let you in?”

Azelma let out a dry laugh. “Combeferre knows some of the hospital staff,” she replied. “I told them my sister was in there giving birth and begged them to let me see her. ’Ferre managed to convince them for me.” Having noticed the tear tracks on Enjolras’ cheeks the moment he looked up to look at her, she asked gingerly, “Is she okay?”

Enjolras shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper as Azelma stepped closer to him. “I honestly don’t know. She had a seizure and then they booted me out. I think she’s alive, though. I’m sure she’s alive.”

She had to be.

“What about the baby?” Azelma enquired, sounding as if she was almost afraid to ask for fear that they didn’t make it.

Enjolras mustered a weak smile. “The baby’s alive,” he told her quietly, looking down at his feet. “I heard them crying before the doctors threw me out. I don’t know if they’re in the best shape, though. I hope they are.” They had been born almost two weeks early and he had caught a glimpse of how small the baby was before he was kicked out, but he desperately hoped they were okay.

Azelma breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that her sister’s baby was okay. Maybe not entirely well, but at least they were _alive_.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Azelma asked softly, “Are _you_ okay, Enjolras?”

Enjolras shook his head, knowing that Azelma was shrewd and would see through any lies he attempted to feed her. “No, I’m not,” he replied honestly, voice low and subdued. “What if I—” He choked on a sob at the thought. “What if I killed her, Azelma?”

“What do you mean, what if you killed her?” Azelma was beyond confused now, wondering what on earth Enjolras could possibly be talking about.

“I got her pregnant!” he spat out, nearly collapsing against the wall and gripping the handrails of the corridor for support. “I’m the reason she’s in so much pain right now. It’s all my fault. I should have—I should have just used a fucking condom, I—” He broke down in silent, shaky sobs, leaning against the handrails for support as he bowed his head, his tears falling onto his red Converse sneakers.

“Enjolras, it isn’t your fault.” Azelma grabbed him by the wrists and forced him to look her in the eyes, hazel eyes meeting blue. Her tone was fierce as she told him, “None of this was your fault, Enjolras. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“But I was the one who knocked her up,” Enjolras pointed out, having lost all his energy moments earlier when he was kicked out of the delivery room. “How could it be anything but my fault?”

Azelma was just about to say something else when they heard a different voice speak behind Enjolras, and he turned around to see a nurse poking her head out of the delivery room, an apprehensive look on her face. “Mr. Enjolras? You can come back in now.”

Enjolras wrestled himself out of Azelma’s shockingly strong grip and made his way back into the delivery room, closely followed by Azelma. She had nearly been stopped by the nurses before Enjolras, his voice completely lacking in energy, told them quietly, “She’s Éponine’s sister. Just let her in.”

Azelma immediately rushed to Éponine’s bedside while Enjolras was guided towards another side of the room, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of his and Éponine’s baby in a nurse’s arms. She walked up to Enjolras, holding the tiny bundle out to him. “Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Enjolras?” she asked, her voice soft and solemn.

_Daughter._

He had a daughter.

He was so overwhelmed with emotion, just gazing down at the tiny baby girl in the nurse’s arms, he almost forgot what she had said before she cleared her throat to catch his attention.

“Just Enjolras is fine,” he told her, his voice having gone hoarse upon finding out his and Éponine’s Peanut was a girl. “May I hold her?”

The nurse carefully passed the baby over to Enjolras, making sure he was supporting her neck before leaving him to his own devices to check on Éponine. He cradled the little bundle of joy in his arms, feeling his eyes fill with tears all over again at the sight of the slumbering baby in his arms, fear coursing through his veins as a feeling of absolute love overtook him at the same time. She was so small, so fragile—he felt a tear escape the corner of his eye as he gazed down at her, noticing her soft little tufts of golden hair. He was terrified of fucking this up, terrified of possibly becoming a terrible father to this perfect little girl, fear and an overwhelming sense of love consuming him whole.

 _Welcome to the world, Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras,_ he thought as he made his way over to Dr. Bourrienne, managing to keep his eyes on Victoire the whole time. Catching the doctor’s attention, he asked quietly, “Is—is Éponine all right?”

Dr. Bourrienne gave him a rueful smile, replying, “She’s okay, but she’s in a coma and I suspect a cerebral haemorrhage. We’re going to be running a CT scan in a moment. I predict it’ll be a week or so before she wakes up, but we can’t know for sure. We’re going to be moving her to the ICU in just a few moments for further treatment. I’m assuming you’ll want a private room for her?”

Enjolras nodded, trying to process the information as he went back over to the delivery bed, where Azelma was sitting beside Éponine’s unconscious form, tears in her eyes. He looked back down at Victoire, gazing at her round, tiny face and, despite everything, feeling his heart break.

He and Éponine had spent almost nine months looking forward to finally meeting their Peanut.

But not like this.

Never like this.

Enjolras had imagined sitting beside Éponine on the bed as she cradled their precious baby in her arms, imagining her cooing to their little Peanut and laughing softly with him about how they were parents now. He had pictured wiping the last of the sweat from her forehead and kissing her tenderly to try to convey how thankful he was for her and how proud he was that she had given birth to their child. He had envisioned the two of them speaking in quiet, gentle voices to their baby once they woke up from their slumber, caressing their cherub cheek and tearing up over how beautiful their child was.

He hadn’t anticipated standing there alone, frozen amidst the doctors and nurses rushing about, with their Peanut in his arms, Éponine unconscious due to being in a coma and being stuck with IVs while Azelma sat at her bedside, silently weeping for her sister. The only sound he could focus on was the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, feeling relief wash over him in waves at the thought that his Éponine was alive. In a coma, yes, but _alive_ nonetheless.

He wondered what things would have been like if he had remembered to use a condom the night of his birthday. Maybe they never would have gotten together, but at least she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, which led to where she was today—in a coma after all she had gone through to deliver their damn baby, her fate uncertain. He looked back down at Victoire and immediately felt like kicking himself.

How could he possibly think that their lives would be better off without their Peanut in their midst? He was holding this perfect little angel in his arms, a perfect little angel that was half him and half Éponine, and the moment he laid eyes on their little bundle of joy, he knew their lives had been changed for the better. Victoire wasn’t to blame for Éponine’s coma and he felt guilt overtake him for ever daring to think otherwise.

His heart shattered at the sight of Éponine’s unconscious figure on the bed, her olive skin having gone frighteningly pale, just about ready to be moved to the ICU. All he wanted was for her to share this moment with him. All he wanted was for her to meet their Peanut at the same time he did.

It was all his fault.

He was the one who had impregnated her in the first place, which could only mean he was the reason she was in such a state right now. He did this to her, and he despised himself for it. How would he ever forgive himself?

What if Éponine never woke up?

Enjolras felt his blood run cold at the thought, hopeless as he glanced at Éponine once again before returning his gaze to their daughter, who was still peacefully sleeping. Victoire had been in the world for barely thirty minutes and she already had Enjolras wrapped around her little finger; he silently vowed to do anything and everything he could to ensure that Victoire was raised in a loving home, happy and safe.

The thing was, he had no idea how he was supposed to do it without Éponine.

Azelma got up from her chair when Dr. Bourrienne told her they were going to be moving Éponine to the ICU now, the redhead making her way over to Enjolras, looking down at the floor and dragging her feet the whole time. She looked absolutely dejected at the news of her sister being in a coma and was still sniffling, reaching up to wipe her tears away with her sleeve before looking up at Enjolras.

“Do you want to meet your niece?” Enjolras asked quietly, beckoning Azelma closer and holding Victoire out to her just slightly so she could get a clear view of her niece’s face, and the young woman let out a breathless laugh upon seeing Victoire for the first time, tears beginning to run down her face again.

“Oh, she’s gorgeous,” Azelma murmured, reaching to gently brush her fingers against Victoire’s tiny cherub cheek. “What’s her name?”

“Victoire,” Enjolras replied without hesitation, looking down at the baby, _his baby_ , swaddled in a little blanket in his arms. “Her name is Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras.”

Azelma smiled despite her tears, her gaze fixed on the baby in Enjolras’ arms. “Do you think you should go to Éponine now? I know she’s in a coma, but she needs you there with her.”

Enjolras knew Azelma was right and he nodded in silence, making sure he was properly carrying Victoire in his arms before trudging out into the hallway and seeing the doctors rounding a corner with Éponine in tow. He followed them, Azelma staying behind to go back to the waiting room, and soon he found himself in the ICU, anxiously following the doctors and standing by the door as they went to work, surrounding Éponine and nearly hiding her from view. He stood with Victoire in his arms, looking down at the precious little bundle of joy he was holding and feeling his breath hitch when her eyes blinked open.

He felt a pang in his heart upon seeing that she had inherited Éponine’s eyes, a warm shade of deep brown that he could get lost in forever. Now that he was really looking at her, he could pick out certain traits in Victoire that she had certainly inherited from Éponine, like her dark eyes and olive skin. He saw a bit of himself in their Peanut as well, noticing that she had a teeny cleft in her chin just like his as well as the soft tufts of golden hair on her tiny softball-sized head. It was funny—he wouldn’t say that she looked _like_ Éponine since she didn’t have any seriously defined features yet, but he had a feeling Victoire would take after her mother a lot. When she gave a little reflex smile as her big brown eyes darted around, observing her surroundings, he noticed the pint-sized dimples in her cheek, much like her mother’s, and he felt like crying all over again.

She was so precious, so sweet, their perfect little angel. How was he supposed to take care of Victoire without Éponine?

There was no way he could do this alone.

Once the doctors had taken care of Éponine, Dr. Bourrienne turned and jumped at the sight of Enjolras standing there by the door, Victoire still in his arms. “I think it’s time your little girl went to the nursery,” she told him gently, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin in his surprise.

“But I—” Enjolras couldn’t quite find the words to plead for Victoire to stay with him, but Dr. Bourrienne seemed to catch his drift.

“It’ll only be a little while,” she assured him. “We’ll bring her back to you as soon as we can. We just need to get her washed and checked up. Can you fill out the birth certificate for us, please?”

Enjolras soon found himself handing Victoire to a nurse and being brought the birth certificate to fill it out. Trying his best to keep his hands still, he filled it out, feeling an ache in his chest as he thought about how he should have Éponine here to do it with him. _Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras, born June 30th at 5:47 PM in New York, New York. Mother: Éponine Amélie Thénardier. Father: Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras._ Once he had filled it out, he put the pen down with a deep sigh, watching as the doctors filed out of the room one by one until he was left completely alone with Éponine.

He felt tears filling his eyes once again at the sight of her lying unconscious on the bed, looking so small and pale and helpless. Dragging the armchair in the corner to the side of her bed to go sit by her, he took one of her limp hands in his, examining the little bruises she had left earlier on his left hand and wondering if that had really been a mere hour ago. He looked at her pale face before his eyes trailed down to the IVs stuck in her arms. He looked down into his lap and sighed, blaming himself for the fact that she was in a coma right now.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I’ll talk to you anyway,” Enjolras began, his voice soft and barely audible as he looked back at Éponine’s face. “You did it, ’Ponine. We have a daughter. She’s perfect.” He let out a quiet laugh despite himself, desperately wishing she was awake as tears started streaming down his cheeks again. “Please wake up soon, Éponine. This is all my fault. I’m the reason you’re in this state right now.” He laughed once again, this one sounding much more derisive than the previous, like he was mocking himself. “I’m so, so, so sorry. Sometimes I wonder how things would have turned out if I had never gotten you pregnant, but if that had happened, we probably wouldn’t even be together and we never would have been blessed with our daughter. On the other hand, if I had never gotten you pregnant, you wouldn’t be in a coma today. I’m so sorry for being the reason you’re here now.” He sighed, looking at her small, limp hand in his before looking back at her lifeless body. He could see her chest rising and falling steadily, the beeping of the heart rate monitor providing some background noise, but other than that, she was completely still and the room was almost dead silent.

It pained Enjolras to see her in such a way.

“I’m going to come back to you later, okay?” he whispered, getting up and leaning down to gently place a kiss on her forehead. “I need to see the others now. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

When he reached the doorway, he stole one more glance back at her. She remained unconscious on the bed, and he left the room.

* * *

Enjolras took his time walking back to the waiting room, dragging his feet on the floor as he absent-mindedly trailed his hand along the handrails of the corridor, bright fluorescent lights illuminating the hallway. He had taken time to get his hand checked out and taken care of; it turned out Éponine really had fractured a bone, but that was nothing compared to her condition right now. A maelstrom of thoughts was whirling through his mind and making him unable to think straight, his body propelling him towards the waiting room as if on autopilot. All he could think about was how helpless Éponine had looked lying unconscious in the ICU and sweet little Victoire looking up at him from his arms through curious brown eyes, his mind constantly switching between the two mental images and making his heart ache.

Enjolras didn’t realise he had reached the waiting room until Courfeyrac called out his name, prompting him to jerk his head up at the sound. He felt like he had been underwater, oblivious to the sounds around him, feeling his heart sinking with each step he took until he stopped short upon reaching the waiting room. He was met with concerned looks, all of the Amis’ eyes on him. Cosette had tears streaking her cheeks as Marius wrapped her up in a comforting hug and Musichetta and Grantaire were staring blankly at the wall in shock, completely at a loss. None of the Amis spoke for several agonising moments before Jehan broke the silence.

“We heard about what happened to Éponine,” he said softly, the laughter in his blue eyes having been replaced by sorrow.

Joly cleared his throat. “We’re so sorry, Enjolras.”

Enjolras’ blue eyes searched the room for Azelma and Gavroche and he saw them sitting together in a corner of the waiting room, huddled together and hiding their faces from view, united in their grief for their sister. His heart broke even more than it already had at the sight of the siblings shaking with silent sobs, and without another word, he approached the two of them, tapping Gavroche on the shoulder.

Gavroche looked up at him through tearful blue eyes, his lips pursed. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras muttered to the two siblings. “I’m sorry for everything.”

The grief on Gavroche’s face was soon replaced by bewilderment as he asked in confusion, “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m the reason ’Ponine is in a coma right now,” Enjolras told them both, looking as if he wanted to kick himself. “I got her knocked up, didn’t I? It couldn’t possibly be anything but my fault.”

“ _Enjolras._ ” Azelma’s voice was full of thinly veiled anger and Enjolras braced himself for the worst, not expecting her to get out of her seat and drag him off to a secluded part of the hallway leading to the waiting room. She grabbed his wrists as she had done earlier and all but forced him to look her in the eye, rage bubbling beneath her hazel eyes and making Enjolras flinch. “This isn’t your fault,” she told him fiercely, somehow managing to keep her voice low. “Can you stop with this self-deprecating bullshit?! You and Éponine chose to keep your baby and it’s nobody’s fault that Ep is in a coma right now. There are times when you can’t control what’s going to happen, Enjolras, and this was one of those times. Stop fucking blaming yourself for something that was out of your control or I swear to _God_ , I will actually physically slap some sense into you so you would see reason.”

“But I… I was the one to get her pregnant,” he murmured, voice feeble. “If I hadn’t gotten her pregnant, your sister wouldn’t be in a coma right now.”

“And if you hadn’t gotten her pregnant, you two wouldn’t even be together and you wouldn’t have Victoire!” Azelma pointed out shrilly, earning herself a reprimanding look from a passing nurse. “Focus on the good things, Enjolras—you two are together and in love and you have a daughter. I know my sister. She _will_ wake up. Sooner or later, she’ll wake up. I’m sure of it.”

“I never even said ‘I love you’ to her,” Enjolras muttered, his self-pity being replaced by fury at himself. He had been too fucking scared to say it out loud to her when she could hear him and now look where they were. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to actually say it to her and have her say it in return, although judging by the way things were going now, he didn’t deserve to have her say it back to him.

“Well, those better be the first words out of your mouth the moment she wakes up,” Azelma hissed, and in that moment, Enjolras could see the exact same fire in Azelma’s hazel eyes that he so often saw in Éponine’s brown.

Azelma marched back to her seat and plopped herself down as Enjolras went back to stand in the waiting room, completely lost without Éponine there beside him. Combeferre got up and went over to Enjolras, noticing the despair and heartache in his friend’s blue eyes and carrying Enjolras’ childhood Elmo doll in his hands. Combeferre reached out to take Enjolras’ hand, faltering when Enjolras winced at the dull ache in his hand and was reminded of how Éponine had practically crushed it earlier during Victoire’s birth.

“You forgot to take this with you back when you first came to talk,” Combeferre told Enjolras quietly, handing Elmo over to the golden-haired man and watching as he looked down to turn it over in his hands, almost as if he was trying to process that it was real. “Are you okay? How’s the baby?”

“I’m okay,” Enjolras replied wanly. It wasn’t entirely a lie—physically, he was more or less all right, although the same couldn’t be said about his current mental state. “The baby’s okay. Small, yes, but okay. I hope.” Remembering how Victoire had been gazing up at him through those big, inquisitive brown eyes of hers, he felt himself smile, murmuring, “I have a daughter, ’Ferre.”

It felt absolutely surreal to be saying it out loud and his heart ached even more as he thought about how this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be saying it to his friends with Éponine sitting beside him on the bed, smiling and holding their Victoire as his chest swelled with pride, the Amis crowding the recovery room as they all insisted on meeting the baby. Instead, he was standing here on his own, pathetic and alone and clutching the old Elmo doll of his childhood while his baby girl was off in who knows where and Éponine was in the ICU, unconscious and alone.

“Where is she now?” Combeferre questioned softly, evidently referring to Victoire since he and the others knew from Azelma of how Éponine had been taken to the ICU.

“The nurses took her to the nursery to get her cleaned and checked up,” Enjolras replied, voice lacking in energy as he stared down at his old doll. “I should probably be getting back to see ’Ponine. Dr. Bourrienne said a nurse will bring Victoire to me as soon as they get her all cleaned up.”

“Why don’t we stop by the nursery?” Combeferre suggested. “We could look at Victoire through the window. We could bring Gavroche too—he deserves to meet his niece as well, even if it’s just seeing her through a window.”

Enjolras nodded. “Good idea.”

He went over to Gavroche, tapping him on the shoulder once more and waiting for him to look up. Enjolras managed a little smile despite the pain he was feeling inside, asking Gavroche quietly, “Do you want to see your niece?”

Gavroche nodded, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the revelation that his sister’s baby was a girl and he had a niece. He got up and walked with Enjolras to Combeferre, who asked a nearby nurse where the nursery was and beginning to briskly make his way down the hallway, Enjolras and Gavroche close behind him as they walked in silence towards the nursery.

Once they had reached it, Enjolras stopped short in front of the window, his blue eyes quickly finding Victoire in the sea of bassinets. It wasn’t difficult—she was noticeably smaller than any of the other babies in the nursery. A nurse was tending to her as she slept, her toes curling almost unnoticeably every now and then. He pointed out Victoire’s bassinet to Gavroche and Combeferre, murmuring with the tiniest hint of pride creeping into his tone despite his despair about Éponine’s coma, “There she is.” He gently nudged Gavroche, telling him quietly, “That’s your niece, Gavroche.”

The teenager’s blue eyes widened considerably at the sight, hardly able to believe that his sister had given birth to such a tiny little thing, and he couldn’t keep the audible little “oooooh” of wonder from escaping his lips at the sight of the tiny baby making fists in her sleep. Enjolras smiled at how Gavroche basically pressed his face against the glass to try to get a closer look at his niece, looking up to meet Combeferre’s eyes.

“That’s your goddaughter, Combeferre,” Enjolras told him, the tiniest smile gracing his lips at the look of shock and disbelief that crossed Combeferre’s face upon being informed that he was the godfather.

“Wait—really? Are you serious?” Combeferre asked, hardly able to believe it. Enjolras nodded.

“If anything ever happens to me and ’Ponine, I figured that you’d be the best one to take care of Victoire,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Not that anyone else would be _bad_ , they just… you know how a lot of the others can be kind of careless sometimes. Besides, I’ve known you since we were eight. You’d definitely be the best man for the job.”

Combeferre, for once, was at a loss for words, overwhelmed with emotion at Enjolras’ casual revelation. He managed a smile as he felt tears beginning to prick his eyes, looking back at Victoire and noticing how she was curling her toes in her sleep, a peaceful look on her tiny little face. He noticed that she had tufts of golden hair much like Enjolras’ and his chin, but she seemed to display a lot of Éponine’s traits, even though her physical features weren’t that defined yet due to her only being about two hours old. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Victoire was going to grow up with loving parents, never once having doubted Éponine and Enjolras’ parenting abilities and knowing they would give their all to their child.

The three of them just stood there outside the nursery, gazing at Victoire through the window, Gavroche and Combeferre with thinly veiled looks of awe on their faces. Enjolras itched to hold his daughter in his arms again, wanting her to have the full support of her father before her mother woke up. She was being swaddled in a little lavender-coloured blanket now, a teeny matching cap being placed on her little head, as the trio watched through the window. A nurse soon took notice of Enjolras and went over to open the door, walking out into the hallway and asking him softly, “Would you like to see your daughter now?”

Enjolras nodded yes, still amazed to hear other people say that he had a daughter. The word just sounded so foreign to him. Gavroche and Combeferre watched as the nurse guided Enjolras into the nursery and took Elmo from him to place in a corner of Victoire’s bassinet before slowly, carefully handing him Victoire herself, making sure he was holding her properly before going to check on the other babies.

“Hi, Peanut,” Enjolras murmured softly, his voice quiet and gentle, as her intelligent brown eyes slowly blinked open. “It’s me, your daddy.” He managed a little smile as Victoire stared up at him curiously, her tiny mouth slightly agape and tufts of golden hair poking out from under her cap. He noticed how she had Éponine’s mouth, lips plump and shaped just like her mother’s, and his heart ached.

It was scary how small she was—Enjolras feared that he might drop her at any moment as he gently cradled her in his arms, amazed by how light she was. Earlier, a nurse had told him that she was small due to having been born almost two weeks early, weighing six pounds and eleven ounces, but otherwise she was more or less okay, though they still had to monitor her development closely for the next week or so. He gazed down at Victoire, tears pooling in his blue eyes at the strange feeling of sadness that was beginning to overtake him. Éponine was supposed to be sharing moments such as this with him.

He couldn’t do this alone.

* * *

Enjolras sat in the plush armchair he had dragged from the corner to the side of Éponine’s bed in the ICU, Victoire in his arms. The nurses had allowed him to bring her with him to see Éponine just for a little while before they were to take her back to the nursery; he got up to place the empty bottle of formula milk that the nurses had given him before he left for the ICU on the nightstand, having just finished feeding Victoire during the brief time she was awake. She was sleeping again now as Enjolras sat back down in his chair, looking between her and Éponine and feeling his heart sink in his chest.

He felt so impossibly guilty about feeling such an overwhelming amount of sadness when it pertained to Victoire, guilty about how he felt absolutely miserable each time he took her into his arms. He still couldn’t shake the thought that it was all his fault from his mind, still convinced that he was the reason things had turned out the way they had. Victoire born nearly two weeks early, Éponine in a coma, and Enjolras beating himself up for it. His guilt increased tenfold each time he caught himself wishing that he had just used a fucking condom before looking at Victoire, berating himself each time for daring to let such things cross his mind when he had this perfect little angel sleeping in his arms, tranquil as can be. She had brought such an unbelievable amount of joy into his life but at the same time he felt overwhelmed with sadness each time he glanced at her, helplessly wishing Éponine could be sharing this with him. He wished he could take the pain from Éponine and have it transferred to him so she wouldn’t have to suffer as much as she had.

He felt tears beginning to leak out of the corners of his eyes as he gazed down at Victoire, his thumb softly caressing her rosy little cheek. It still scared him to think about how light and tiny she was, having never held a person so small before, and he desperately wished Éponine could see her now. He wished Éponine could share all these moments with him, but clearly fate had something else in store for them.

There was no way he would ever be able to do this alone and he knew it. Victoire needed Éponine. He needed Éponine.

He needed her so much, it was tearing him apart inside.

“’Ponine,” Enjolras whispered hoarsely, looking back up at her unconscious form as he cradled their Victoire in his arms, gently rocking her to sleep. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’re like this right now, I know it’s all my fault and for that I’m sorry.” He choked on a sob, feeling the tears multiplying and streaming steadily down his ashen face in rivulets. “Please wake up, ’Ponine. I can’t do this without you. There’s no way I could do this without you.” He looked back down at Victoire, managing the smallest of smiles at the sight of her peacefully sleeping in his arms. “Victoire… Our Peanut… She’s so perfect, Éponine. I feel so guilty every time I think about how I should’ve just used a condom. If I had done that, you wouldn’t be in a coma right now, but then we wouldn’t have this little peanut with us. I don’t think we would even be together.” He let out a tearful little laugh garbled by a sob, tracing Victoire’s plush little cheek and wondering why he ever thought things would have been better off if he hadn’t accidentally impregnated Éponine. She wouldn’t be in a coma today, but at the same time, they wouldn’t have been blessed with their baby girl.

“I wish you could see her,” he murmured, returning his gaze to Éponine and sighing in despair. “I have a feeling she’ll take after you. She has my hair and my chin, but I have a feeling that the rest is going to be all you.” He chuckled, tears still steadily streaming down his cheeks and leaving tear tracks on his pallid face. “Please wake up. I don’t know how I would do this without you.” He bowed his head, his shoulders trembling from the slight force of his quiet sobs. “Victoire needs you. _I_ need you,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I need you so much, it’s killing me. I can’t do this without you. Please don’t make me do this alone,” he choked out, sobs wracking his body as he tried his best to stay still for Victoire’s sake.

“I love you, ’Ponine,” Enjolras whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love you so much. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me and I’m completely lost without you. I love you.” He bowed his head again, tears dripping onto his shirt and dampening the blue fabric. “If I could turn back time, I would go back and tell you that I love you before all this shit happened. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s not telling you that I love you whenever I had the chance to do so.”

If there was one thing he knew now, it was that the three words weren’t supposed to be considered a sacred phrase and only said when necessary. It was meant to be said with abandon whenever he had a chance to do so. Contrary to what he had initially believed, saying it repeatedly wouldn’t make it lose its meaning; instead, it would just strengthen his love for her by proclaiming it out loud, and he knew then and there that he would never tire of saying it.

He had pictured so many happy scenarios in which he would first say the three magic words to Éponine, envisioning them sitting in bed together after Victoire’s birth and exchanging tearful words and I love you’s.

Never did he think to imagine sitting at her bedside in the ICU and tearfully whispering those words to her with their daughter sleeping in his arms as she lay there unconscious, tubes and cords sticking out of her arms, the only other sound in the room being the heart rate monitor beeping.

“I love you, Éponine,” Enjolras whispered one last time, looking down at Victoire before returning his gaze to Éponine, tears washing down his face as he felt an ache in his chest at the sight of her so fragile and helpless. “Please wake up.”

The only response he received was the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's a girl! :3


	22. Chapter XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you seen [this](https://twitter.com/SamanthaBarks/status/992044928447471618)? i'm so fucking Shooketh™ when will your faves ever
> 
> content warning: gets a lil racy in the beginning ;)

* * *

_“I shake it off, I shake it off, I, I, I shake it off, I shake it off…”_

_Enjolras danced around onstage, grasping the mic stand with one hand and the microphone with the other and having the absolute time of his life. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as his friends cheered him on in that dimly lit karaoke bar and he kept catching Éponine’s eye, shamelessly winking at her each time and laughing when she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him in response, his hips swaying from side to side as he sang into the mic, his voice ringing out through the bar. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he was drunk. Unbelievably, extremely, insanely drunk._

_He had forgotten about how good it felt to be completely wasted, how carefree and relaxed he felt with the alcohol rapidly taking control of his system. He stumbled off the stage as Courfeyrac darted on, making his way back to his seat by Éponine and grabbing his bottle of whiskey, taking an enormous gulp as Éponine downed the rest of her tequila, almost as drunk as he was._

_“You—that was—great!” she yelled over the noise of Courfeyrac screeching out some Carly Rae Jepsen song and the others drunkenly cheering him on._

_Enjolras grinned back at her, feeling his cheeks reddening as he took another huge gulp of whiskey and slammed the bottle onto the table a bit harder than he intended to, wiping away the whiskey dribbling down his chin with the sleeve of his sweater. “Why don’t you go sing?” he shouted back over the music, turning around to look at Courfeyrac bouncing around onstage and laughing heartily._

_“Fuck no, no more!” Éponine grabbed his bottle of whiskey and took a gulp despite his protests before she placed it on the table again, her gaze trailing off to Marius and Cosette. Cosette was in Marius’ lap and they were heatedly making out in the corner, seeming to be stuck in their own little world as they groped each other in a way that was probably less than appropriate for the public eye, and Éponine’s face fell at the sight. Huffing, she grabbed Enjolras’ whiskey once again and took a bigger gulp this time, oblivious to how Enjolras had a strange, concerned look on his face as he recalled how she had been angrily bellowing the lyrics to “Mr. Brightside” into the microphone earlier while glaring viciously at Marius and Cosette the entire time, just as she was doing right now while chugging more whiskey than she could probably hold._

_“Hey, ’Ponine.” He reached for her hand, an oddly tender gesture despite his drunken state of mind. She turned around, placing the bottle back on the table as her eyes met his._

_“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stared into his eyes, making something inside him flutter. Or maybe that was just the alcohol getting to him._

_“Uh… never mind,” Enjolras told her, having forgotten what he was about to say. Éponine quirked an eyebrow questioningly before turning back to watch Courfeyrac, who was now screaming out the lyrics to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” and dancing like a fucking maniac, raising her empty glass to him and cheering him on as the others did the same. Enjolras was the only one not doing so, instead gazing at an oblivious Éponine with a strange look in his blue eyes, tender and soft and the tiniest hint of a smile on his face._

_Before the two of them knew it, they were being shoved into the backseat of an Uber by Combeferre, the only one who had remained stone-cold sober, drunkenly chattering between themselves and not having a care in the world. They paid no heed to how fed up the Uber driver seemed to be, continuing to ramble between themselves about things they would probably never discuss when they were sober. Éponine requested for the driver to turn up the radio every ten minutes for about an hour or so as they got caught in traffic before she snuggled up to Enjolras, curling into him and hugging his arm; she felt herself beginning to doze off, completely unaware of how he tensed up at first before relaxing, letting her lay her head on his shoulder, his heart pounding wildly in his chest._

_Once they reached home, they heavily tipped the Uber driver before stumbling out, laughing as they somehow managed to make it to the top step of the steps leading up to the front door without tripping over their own feet. Éponine was barefoot, her heels dangling from her fingers as she clung to Enjolras, hugging his arm and standing on tiptoe to rest her chin on his shoulder as he fumbled with the key, a dopey little grin on his face at how close in proximity he and Éponine were._

_The two of them nearly fell into the apartment by the time he managed to open the door, Enjolras grabbing onto the doorframe and narrowly stopping them from falling flat on their faces. Éponine stepped inside, discarding her heels carelessly by the door and going into the living room to throw herself onto the sofa, letting out a loud, contented sigh. Enjolras followed her, taking his sweater off and collapsing onto the edge of the sofa once he was close enough to do so, an uncomfortable pounding in his head._

_“’Jolras?” Éponine slurred, lifting her head up and crawling over to him._

_“Whazzit, ’Ponine?” Enjolras mumbled in response, looking up and nearly losing his breath at how close his face was to hers._

_“Have I—have I ever told you you’re—” Éponine giggled, one hand absently trailing up the length of his arm and feeling the muscle, making his breath hitch. “You’re reeeaaally pretty, you know? It’s just—you—” She looked down and giggled even more, oblivious to how Enjolras’ face had taken on a bright shade of scarlet. “I’m just—” She looked back up, brown eyes meeting blue. “You’re so—you’re so—what’s the word? Oh!” Her face lit up in delight as she declared, “You’re so_ handsome _, you know? It’s like—” She gestured to his face. “It’s like you’re a—like a Greek statue or—or somethin’, it’s just—”_

_Enjolras felt his cheeks flame red at her words, his mind beginning to run away from him at the sight of her looking like she was moments away from hopping into his lap. “You’re—you’re beautiful, ’Ponine,” he told her, figuring he might as well tell her since they were both drunk out of their minds. “It’s—you’re—you’re really pretty too, and—” He leaned in closer as one of her hands reached up to ruffle his curls._

_“Aww, really?” Éponine had a look of utmost delight on her face at his words, though it could have something to do with the fact that she was completely shitfaced. She felt his biceps, murmuring, “Christ, your arms… they—they’re so sexy—”_

_Enjolras grinned at her and let her latch on to him like a leech once she had stopped rambling, the two of them just sitting there on the sofa, restless and drunk. After a while, Enjolras commented offhandedly, “You know—you have nice lips. I think it would be nice to kiss you—” He trailed off just as Éponine perked up at his words._

_“Then kiss me!” she giggled, grabbing his face and forcing him to look her in the eyes._

_Enjolras’ blue eyes widened at her words and he stammered out, “But—we’re not—”_

_“Who cares?!” Enjolras nearly fainted when Éponine wasted no time in climbing into his lap to straddle him, her hands cradling his face. “Kiss me,” she demanded, brown eyes full of fire as they stared into his blue._

_Enjolras figured that he might as well comply, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her closer as she leaned in, her lips meeting his, and he could have sworn his brain was short-circuiting._

_There was nothing gentle about the kiss—Éponine kissed him with a fiery passion, fierce and demanding, her small hands gripping his face as he ran a hand up her spine, feeling her shiver in his arms. He kissed her back, almost unable to process the fact that he was actually kissing her right now as he felt her hands moving into his hair, her fingers tangling in his golden curls as she parted her lips against his, her tongue finding its way into his mouth. Enjolras could feel goosebumps erupting along his skin, forgetting about everything else around them as he kissed her harder, nearly losing his mind when she let out a soft, high-pitched moan of his name against his lips._

_They abruptly broke apart once all the air had left their lungs, panting and sucking in deep breaths as they stared into each other’s eyes, transfixed. Enjolras was certain she could feel his boner through his jeans, having just noticed how painfully tight the denim had become, giving away just how badly he wanted her as he gazed at Éponine through wide blue eyes, his chest heaving as he caught his breath._

_Taking advantage of the momentary silence, Éponine took off her leather jacket so she would just be in her tank top, never taking her eyes off of his as she did so. Enjolras felt his throat go dry and swallowed at the lustful look in her eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then she was kissing him again, passionate and furious and making him lose his mind. A low moan escaped his throat when her lips parted from his, Éponine beginning to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin and nibbling at it slightly as his brain short-circuited at how she was sucking and lightly biting at his neck, strangled moans falling from his lips. Éponine smirked against his neck, finding his pulse point and biting down on it, revelling in how he let out a short gasp of surprise when she began to suck at his neck to relieve the sting. Enjolras’ hands slid up into her hair as she continued to brand him with hickeys, passionate and unrelenting, spurred on by the sound of his strangled moans._

_She soon broke away from him, the both of them breathing heavily as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “Why don’t we—why don’t we go to my room?” Enjolras offered, his voice hoarse, feeling as if he had lost the ability to speak coherently._

_Éponine nodded breathlessly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”_

_They were barely in the hallway on the way to his room when she pounced again, kissing him passionately and giggling in delight when he kissed her back hard the moment he felt her lips capture his, and the two of them stumbled blindly down the hallway, Enjolras pinning Éponine to the wall as she jumped up to hook her legs around his waist. He felt around for the doorknob, managing to turn it and open his door just as she jumped down, pulling him inside and pressing her lips to his the moment they were both inside, barely allowing him to close the door behind him before she pulled him into another fierce kiss._

_A quiet moan of her name fell from Enjolras’ lips at the feeling of her mouth on his once again, her tongue slipping between his lips and driving him mad. She was absolutely intoxicating, leaving him delirious and dizzy with want as they fell into his bed, him on top of her, her fingers tangled in his golden curls and his hands tracing her curves, making her shiver beneath him. The two of them broke apart when Éponine started tugging at the hem of his shirt and he quickly got the hint, pulling his shirt over his head before doing the same with her tank top, tossing them off the side of the bed and out of sight. Éponine marvelled at his abs, her hand beginning to trace his six pack as he gazed down at her, wondering if this was just one long, vivid wet dream that he would be waking up from any moment now._

_“You sure about this, ’Ponine?” he whispered, his gaze trailing down to her breasts and his throat going dry at the sight of her lacy bra, which was in his absolute favourite shade of crimson._

_Éponine grabbed his hands and guided them to her back so he could unhook her bra and discard it as he had done with their shirts, sucking in a sharp breath when he finally did so. She watched as his eyes widened in wonder at the sight of her bare breasts, a smirk playing at her lips. His bulge had been rubbing up against her and she could feel heat pooling between her thighs, driving her mad with an utter want—no,_ need _for him._

_As if to respond, she pulled him back down into a filthy, tongue-filled kiss, reaching down to undo the button of her jeans to pull them down and kick them off so she would just be in her lacy red panties. When they broke apart, Éponine nodded breathlessly at the wide-eyed look on Enjolras’ face._

_There was no going back._

* * *

Enjolras nearly fell out of his armchair when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, waking him from his fitful, restless sleep. Looking around frantically through bleary blue eyes, he realised that he was still in the ICU, still in that chair he had fallen asleep in last night after a nurse came by to take Victoire back to the nursery. His back ached and he had a kink in his neck after sleeping in the armchair by Éponine’s bed, the only sound in the room being the beeping of the heart rate monitor. Reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes and stretching out his neck, Enjolras blinked and looked up to see Combeferre standing there with a plastic bag in his hand.

“It’s seven,” Combeferre told him quietly, handing him the bag. “Everyone else is downstairs eating breakfast in the cafeteria. I figured I’d bring you some food.”

Enjolras mustered a grateful little smile, taking the bag from him and looking inside to find a little package that smelled of mac and cheese. He hadn’t left Éponine’s side since he came back in with Victoire last night and he was willing to fight to make sure he stayed by her side until she woke up. He gestured for Combeferre to take the other chair in the room and drag it up beside him so they could sit together as he opened the mac and cheese, finding a little plastic spoon and scooping up a spoonful of macaroni. Combeferre took a seat beside him, looking at Éponine and grimacing at the sight of the tubes and cords stuck into her arms.

“So I take it you’re not going to leave?” Combeferre asked quietly as Enjolras spooned some macaroni into his mouth.

Enjolras shook his head. “I’m not going to leave until ’Ponine and Victoire are allowed to leave. I’m staying.” He had emailed his boss from his phone last night to tell her about how he was going on leave just before falling asleep and was planning on checking his email for a response once he had finished his breakfast. “Do you think she’ll be all right?” he asked Combeferre anxiously, biting his lip as he chewed on his macaroni.

“I talked to the doctor monitoring her recovery. She said Éponine suffered a cerebral haemorrhage,” Combeferre replied, subdued as he listened to the heart rate monitor beeping. “It’s nothing severe, thank goodness—it’s nothing that’ll require surgery, but she’ll be put on medication for it and her stay in the hospital will probably end up being longer than expected since she has to be closely monitored. She’ll be all right, though.”

Despite Combeferre’s certainty about Éponine’s recovery, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel sick to the stomach at the thought of how much she was going through. Of all the people this kind of thing could have happened to, it had happened to her. She didn’t deserve to go through all this when she had suffered so much in her lifetime already, and Enjolras blinked back the oncoming tears as he spooned mac and cheese into his mouth in silence, still furious at himself for putting her through this.

He let out a sudden derisive laugh once he had finished his mac and cheese, getting up to discard the packaging in the bin by the door. “I feel so useless, ’Ferre,” Enjolras muttered once he sat back down, looking at Éponine and watching her chest steadily rising and falling. “She’s going through so much and I’m just sitting here. I hate not being able to do anything about it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up for it, Enjolras,” Combeferre told him, reaching out to pat his back. “I know you still feel like it’s your fault, but it really isn’t.”

“Is it, though?” Enjolras looked up to glance at Combeferre, blue eyes full of despair. “I was the one who got her pregnant. If I hadn’t done that, she wouldn’t be in a coma.”

“And if you hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t have a daughter,” Combeferre pointed out, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, beginning to grow tired of Enjolras’ self-deprecating words. “Éponine’s one of the strongest people we know. If anyone was going to make it through this, it’s her. It’s not your fault, Enjolras, and you need to stop beating yourself up about it. These kinds of things are out of your control. You can’t blame yourself for everything that doesn’t go as planned.”

Enjolras said nothing, knowing Combeferre was right, but he still couldn’t help but feel that he could have somehow prevented this. His mind began to wander, trying to recall the vivid dream about the night of his birthday, the night when it had all begun, he had had last night before Combeferre woke him up, bits and pieces of it coming back to him.

All he could remember was Éponine—Éponine angrily screeching “Mr. Brightside” at the karaoke bar, Éponine chugging his whiskey and shooting death glares Marius and Cosette’s way, Éponine giggling and drunkenly rambling on and on and on about how pretty she found him to be, Éponine climbing into his lap and making his brain short-circuit with a passionate kiss, Éponine branding his neck with hickeys and making him make sounds no one would have ever thought he was even capable of making, Éponine pulling him into bed… All he could think about was Éponine, Éponine, Éponine, unable to bring himself to believe that the small, frail person in the bed before him was the same person he couldn’t stop thinking about.

After God knows how long, Combeferre got up, placing the chair back where he had retrieved it from before walking over to Enjolras. “I think I’m going to go now,” Combeferre told the golden-haired man quietly, stealing another glance at Éponine and watching her steady breathing. “I’ll see you around, okay? Give me updates on how Éponine’s doing.”

Enjolras managed a smile—honestly, it was more of a grimace—and gave Combeferre a thumbs-up, replying, “Will do.”

The next several hours were quite uneventful—Enjolras was introduced to Dr. Amelia Colbert, the doctor monitoring Éponine’s recovery, and he was told that the damage they had found was nothing extensive or life-threatening, much to his utter relief, although she was going to be given quite a bit of medication for the cerebral haemorrhage she had suffered. After a couple of hours, he decided to get up and take a little walk around the ICU to stretch his legs, rather unnerved by the amount of people in critical condition before he found his way back to Éponine’s room. At some point that afternoon, he went to the nursery on a whim to see Victoire, watching her through the window as the nurses washed her and clothed her and wishing he could hold her in his arms again. He returned to Éponine’s room at around six o’clock that afternoon with Victoire and a bottle of formula, sitting back down in the armchair he had dragged beside Éponine’s bed.

Victoire was very much awake now, staring up at Enjolras through large brown eyes as he grasped the bottle in one hand, watching as she drank in the formula milk and smiling at the mere sight of her. She really had inherited Éponine’s eyes, and he saw a lot of his girlfriend in their daughter—he could see that same sparkle in Victoire’s eyes, and he just knew she would take after her mother. He couldn’t help but smile down at the infant in his arms, forgetting about all the pain if only for a few moments as he gazed down at Victoire while she finished the last of her milk.

Once Victoire was done feeding, Enjolras placed a cloth the nurse who had brought him Victoire brought in for him on his shoulder and he held her upright, gently patting her back as the nurse had taught him last night in order to burp her. After Victoire let out a little pint-sized belch, Enjolras took Victoire back into his arms, cradling her and gazing down at her as he caressed her rosy little cheek.

It amazed him to see how tranquil she was, quiet and content in his arms, and he thanked his lucky stars that Victoire was such a peaceful baby, at least for now. He watched as she blinked up at him, taking in his appearance with something of a curious look on her face. He had no doubt that she would take after Éponine, predicting that Victoire, though placid right now as a newborn, would grow up to be a feisty little thing, much like her mother. When Victoire gave a little reflex smile, Enjolras gently traced the little dimple in her cheek with his thumb, smiling down at her as she stared up at him curiously.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered down to Victoire, still softly caressing her cheek as she blinked up at him. “An angel. Just like your mother.” He stole a quick glance at Éponine before looking back down at Victoire, murmuring, “You’re our little Peanut. I love you so much, Victoire. Your mother loves you so much too. We’ve waited so long for you to get here and I’m so glad you’re here in my arms right now.” She was beginning to nod off, her eyelids fluttering shut every now and then, although she was still trying to keep them open. Enjolras lifted her up slightly and leaned down to kiss her tiny forehead. “I can already tell you’re going to take after her a lot,” he murmured, caressing her soft, thin tufts of golden hair. “She’s fierce and passionate and so, so loving, and I know you’re going to be just like her. She loves you so much, Peanut.”

Enjolras continued talking quietly to Victoire after she had fallen asleep, not noticing someone standing in the doorway until he heard a couple of soft knocks on the door. He looked up to see Grantaire standing there with a vase full of tulips in his arms and a “get well soon” card attached to it. The dark-haired man was watching Enjolras and Victoire from the doorway with a little smile on his face, touched by the sight of his friend talking to his daughter in such quiet, loving tones.

“Mind if I come in?” Grantaire asked, quietly so not to disturb Victoire. “This vase is heavy.”

Enjolras gestured for him to come in, watching as Grantaire went to place the vase on the table in the corner before going to pull up the chair Combeferre had sat in that morning to sit down next to Enjolras. “When do you think she’ll wake up?” Grantaire questioned softly, looking at Éponine on the bed and feeling something inside him break at the sight of his best, oldest friend lying unconscious.

“The doctors predicted it will probably be a week or so,” Enjolras replied, returning his gaze back to Victoire. It hurt too much to look at Éponine for too long; she was never supposed to be confined to a bed, she was too fiery and spirited and full of life to be in such a state. “I know she’ll wake up at some point.”

Grantaire looked at the sleeping baby in Enjolras’ arms, scooting closer to get a better look. “She’s so tiny,” he remarked in quiet awe, reaching out to tentatively brush his fingers against Victoire’s impossibly soft cheek. “What’s her name again?”

“Victoire,” Enjolras responded quietly, his eyes still on the infant. “Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Grantaire breathed, a look akin to childlike wonder on his face at the sight of Victoire. After a few moments in which he and Enjolras just stared at Victoire, Grantaire commented softly, “She looks a lot like Ep.”

Enjolras’ mouth curved up in the tiniest smile. “I have a feeling she’ll take after ’Ponine a lot.”

Grantaire returned his gaze to Éponine, sighing at the sight of her just lying there, not moving except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. “I miss her already,” he murmured, looking at the IVs stuck in her arms.

“She’ll wake up,” Enjolras said quietly, trying his best to be confident about it despite the lingering despair he felt. “I know she will.” He looked back down at Victoire, still sleeping so peacefully in his arms, and he felt that same sense of overwhelming fear he had felt when first holding her in his arms, afraid of fucking up and raising her to resent him as Éponine’s father had done when he had no such intentions. Meaning for his question to be rhetorical, he asked, “What if I screw up, R?”

Grantaire looked at him with a quizzical look in his green eyes, wondering what on earth Enjolras could possibly be talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Victoire,” Enjolras clarified. “What if I screw up this whole parenting thing? I love her so much already,” he murmured, looking at Victoire’s little angel face and feeling his heart burst at how she was making fists in her sleep, swaddled in her blankets. “I just don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to let her and Éponine down.” His thumb traced one of Victoire’s dimples when she gave a reflex smile in her sleep before it disappeared from her face almost as soon as it came. “I love them both so much. I don’t want to turn out the way Éponine’s own father did and break her heart.”

“And you won’t,” Grantaire told him, and Enjolras was caught off-guard by the certainty in Grantaire’s voice, looking up to catch his eye. Grantaire went on in earnest, “I know you won’t. Anyone, myself included, can see how much you love Éponine and Victoire, and I know you’ll be fine. Even if you don’t show it most of the time, you have a lot of love to give, Enjolras, and I know you’ll give your all to them.” He reached out to pat Enjolras on the back, stopping briefly when he tensed up until he relaxed again. “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re already a great dad and I can just tell that you’re only going to get better as time passes.”

Enjolras smiled, a real genuine smile this time instead of the strained, feeble smiles he had been giving people over the course of the past twenty-four hours. “Grantaire, I don’t think I tell you enough about how much I appreciate you.”

“Well, I sure would love to hear that from you more often,” Grantaire drawled in reply, his tone taking a considerably lighter turn as he grinned at Enjolras, green eyes sparkling. “I was getting all mushy for a moment there. Is this what having a heart feels like?” Grantaire shuddered, making a face, although Enjolras could tell he was exaggerating. “Gross. I don’t like it.”

Enjolras chuckled and looked back down at Victoire, feeling his lips curving into the tiniest smile at the sight of her slumbering in his arms, making fists every now and then in her sleep, tiny mouth slightly agape. He was overcome with such an overwhelming sense of love for his daughter, and she had barely been in the world for a day.

 _No matter what,_ he thought, tracing her plush little cheek. _I’ll love you no matter what._

* * *

The days seemed to drag on forever as Enjolras waited each day in Éponine’s room for her to wake up, feeling himself beginning to lose hope with each day that passed in which she made no indication of consciousness. Dr. Colbert was taking good care of Éponine and Victoire was in good hands down in the nursery, but even still, Enjolras couldn’t help but worry himself senseless while waiting for Éponine to wake up. He tried to stay by her side most of the time, but he wasn’t made of stone, contrary to popular belief—he took bathroom breaks every now and then and often went down to the cafeteria to grab some food before returning to sit by Éponine’s side, waiting for her to wake up.

When he wasn’t in the cafeteria or in the bathroom or with Éponine, Enjolras went down to the nursery to visit Victoire, watching her through the window of the nursery. She was an oddly tranquil baby, only crying whenever she was being really fussy; Enjolras had gotten himself acquainted with Nurse Karolina Stevenson, a nurse about Enjolras’ age who seemed to have grown fond of Victoire and often took care of her, and she had told him that he was lucky to have such a serene daughter. He suspected that it wouldn’t last, though—he saw the defiant spark that he so often saw in Éponine’s eyes in Victoire’s, and he predicted that the infant wouldn’t remain calm like this forever.

At least one of the Amis dropped by each day to see how Éponine was doing, flooding the table in the corner by the window with flowers and balloons and other various “get well soon” gifts; at one point, Mr. Fauchelevent made an appearance with Javert in tow, having heard of what had happened to Éponine through Cosette. The Amis who visited usually just sat there beside Enjolras, just talking to her even though she was in a coma, and some of them often started crying mid-sentence while talking to Éponine’s inert form. Enjolras could never forget how Cosette had started blubbering halfway through her third sentence while Marius stood there beside her with tears in his eyes at the sight of how fragile and lifeless Éponine appeared to be, and Enjolras had had to calm them both down before he started crying again himself.

Even with all the shit they were going through, Enjolras supposed there were some good moments—he had taken the friends who had dropped by to visit Éponine to the nursery to see Victoire, pointing her out to them each time through the window as something resembling pride crept into his voice. Sometimes he had Victoire with him in Éponine’s room in the ICU when one of the Amis came by, letting them take a good look at her although he was still hesitant about letting them actually hold her, tending to close himself off whenever they tried to ask. He had wanted Éponine to be the first person to properly hold their daughter, but since that clearly hadn’t been the case, he wanted her to be the first person other than him and a few nurses to hold Victoire.

Enjolras was sitting in his armchair in Éponine’s room five days after Victoire’s birth, bottle-feeding the infant and rocking back and forth just slightly as she stared up at him intently with those big brown eyes of hers, when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up just in time to see Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet enter the room with flowers in hand and mustered a smile as their gazes immediately fell to Victoire.

“Oh, my God,” Musichetta whispered, her lips stretching out into an awed little smile. She handed the flowers she was holding to Joly, who proceeded to put them on the table in the corner as Musichetta and Bossuet went up to Enjolras to look down at Victoire. “Enjolras, she’s precious.”

“She’s so small!” Bossuet noted in amazement, a laugh escaping his lips.

Enjolras noticed how Joly was just standing there by Éponine’s bed, staring at Éponine with a thoughtful look on his face. “You okay there, Joly?”

“Yeah, just looking at how Ep’s been doing,” Joly replied, making his way over to join his girlfriend and boyfriend in gushing over Victoire. “What’s her name?” he questioned, rather embarrassed about not having asked about it sooner. “I didn’t think to ask.”

“Victoire,” Enjolras replied as if on autopilot. He looked back down at her, noticing how her brown-eyed gaze was wandering to Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet, curious as to who these people were.

Joly stood beside Musichetta, sandwiching her between him and Bossuet, as the three of them stared down in wonder at the baby in Enjolras’ arms. “She looks a lot like Éponine,” Joly commented.

“Except for the hair,” Bossuet chimed in. “And she has your chin, Enjolras.”

“That’s probably where the similarities to me end,” Enjolras told them lightly, looking at Musichetta, whose mouth was slightly agape as she caressed Victoire’s delicate cheek with her fingers, rendered speechless. “She’s all Éponine.”

Musichetta’s gaze soon trailed behind her to Éponine, looking over her shoulder with a wistful look in her eyes to stare at her. “Any news? About Éponine, I mean?” she asked Enjolras, looking back at him, biting her lip apprehensively.

“She’s still not responding,” Enjolras replied ruefully. “She’s on medication. Dr. Colbert, the doctor monitoring her, said she suffered a cerebral haemorrhage. It wasn’t severe, but she’s being closely monitored and being given medication for it.”

Joly screwed up his face, pursing his lips at the news. “When do you think she’ll wake up?” he asked gingerly.

“In a few days,” Enjolras responded. “At least, I hope she wakes up in a few days. After Victoire was born, Dr. Bourrienne told me it would probably be a week or so before she woke up. I know she’ll wake up.” He knew his Éponine—she was a trooper. If anyone could make it through this, it was her.

The trio before him fell silent for a few moments before they turned their attention back to Victoire, who had finished feeding at this point and was now staring raptly at them before she started to grow fussy. Taking it as his cue to burp her, Enjolras draped his shoulder with that cloth Nurse Stevenson had brought in when she brought Victoire and he held the infant in an upright position, gently patting her back and uncomfortably aware of how Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet were staring at him intently, giving the trio an odd look. The three of them cooed in tandem when Victoire let out a little belch, staring at her all starry-eyed as Enjolras cradled her in his arms again, watching as she stared up at the unfamiliar trio.

“That’s your Aunt Chetta,” Enjolras told her in a cheerful little voice reserved specifically for Victoire, gesturing to Musichetta. “And these two are your Uncle Joly and Uncle Bossuet,” he went on, pointing out Joly and Bossuet to Victoire as she stared up at them through those beautiful big brown eyes.

“She’s so precious,” Musichetta cooed, caressing her little cheek as she blinked up at her. After fussing over Victoire for a few more moments, Musichetta stood back up, looking between her boyfriends and flashing them a cutesy little grin. “You two ever want a baby?” she asked in a seemingly innocent manner, though she had that devious sparkle in her eyes.

Joly’s eyes widened as he stared back at his girlfriend, caught off-guard and unsure of how to react. “Uh… maybe?”

“Someday,” Bossuet replied at the same time; unlike Joly, he was completely unperturbed by Musichetta’s words. He liked the idea of having children, but with his luck, he’d probably end up dropping them once they were born. “I think we better get going now, don’t you think?”

“We’ll see you around, Enjolras,” Joly told the golden-haired man, stealing one more glance at Victoire before he started making his way to the door, Bossuet and Musichetta close behind him. Once the door was shut, Enjolras glanced back at Victoire, who was already beginning to drift off to sleep from how he rocked the chair. He felt himself beginning to drift off as well, making sure Victoire was secure in his arms as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

The next three days passed by with no event, if one didn’t count Combeferre showing up with Courfeyrac, Azelma, and Gavroche, all separately, in the span of three days. Éponine was still unresponsive, being treated by the doctors, and Enjolras could feel the hope draining from his system, but he refused to let himself believe she would never wake up, knowing she would. He knew her just as well as he knew himself, and he knew she would get through this.

She had to.

It was the tenth day after Victoire’s birth and Enjolras had just handed Victoire back to Nurse Stevenson after bottle-feeding her that night, and he was beginning to grow drowsy. He leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in as he gazed at Éponine, an ache in his heart at the sight of her so lifeless when she was usually so spirited and full of life. He longed to take her into his arms and finally tell her just how much he loved her to her face, longing to tell her those three words he realised he had been aching to say and have her say them in return. He still didn’t think he deserved to have it said back to him, but he longed to say it to her nonetheless.

The past week had really allowed him to properly mull things over and work out his innermost thoughts and feelings. He hated himself for not realising what he should have realised sooner—Éponine was his soulmate, his better half, his partner in all things in life, his perfect woman, his best friend, his _everything_. She was everything he could ever ask for and so much more than that, and he wished he could have realised this sooner so he could have told her straight away.

He _loved_ her.

Enjolras realised he hadn’t known what love was until now, sitting beside Éponine in the ICU and finally having the space he needed to properly think some things through. Love was his gentle words of reassurance whispered in her ear in the dead of the night over pillows whenever she was wracked with silent sobs over the damage her parents had done her. Love was that look he got in his eyes whenever he first glimpsed her from a distance before she jogged up to him and embraced him in greeting. Love was the endless support they provided for each other, the knowledge that they would always have each other’s backs forever in the back of his mind. Love was that feeling of absolute ease that he got whenever he was with her, feeling as if he was coming home every time he looked into those warm, beautiful brown eyes.

His eyelids were beginning to droop even more and he was growing increasingly incapable of keeping them open for more than a few seconds at a time, and he silently kicked his shoes off to curl up in the armchair, resting his head on his folded arms on the armrest. It was severely uncomfortable, but at this point, he was too tired to think straight, letting himself doze off as his eyelids fluttered shut. He stayed like that, figuring that if he kept himself in the same position, he would soon drift off for real.

Enjolras didn’t know how long he had stayed in that position when he heard a quiet, almost inaudible cough. His heart leaped in his chest. Could it possibly be—no. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Not yet.

He heard a familiar voice hoarsely croaking out, “Enj…” and then a rough clearing of the throat. “’Jolras…”

Enjolras’ head snapped up, his blue eyes widening at the sight of Éponine’s dark eyes blinking open. She seemed to struggle to look around at her surroundings, her body not properly responding to her just yet, and her cloudy, disoriented gaze soon settled on Enjolras, attempting to smile as best as she could at the look of disbelief on his face.

“’Ponine?” Enjolras breathed, not daring to believe it as he felt tears pricking at his eyes.

Éponine sucked in a deep breath, her chest heaving as she managed a smile. “You’re here.”


	23. Chapter XXIII

* * *

Éponine felt cold.

She felt sticky and cold and it felt as if she was floating on thin air.

And in an instant, she was falling, hard and fast, almost as if she was being sucked down, and her heart started pounding wildly, blood roaring in her ears.

A short breath of alarm escaped her lungs as her dark eyes shot open, only to be met by blurriness. She jolted, blinking repeatedly as she attempted to make sense of her surroundings, eventually coming to the realisation that she was in a hospital room, judging by the sound of the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor beside her bed. Her gaze trailed downward, and to her bewilderment, she noticed the various tubes and cords stuck in her arms.

Éponine felt completely drained of energy, awkward and stiff, her body refusing to respond to her and not moving the way she wanted it to. Slowly, her gaze trailed to the window, noticing that it was dark out and that the window was opened just a bit, curtains fluttering from the light summer breeze. She felt an odd sort of fogginess in her mind, struggling to process what was going on as she noticed the array of flowers and cards and candies and God knows what else on the table. She simply gave the items a blank stare, wondering why she felt as if her limbs were made of jello.

She felt an odd tingling sensation in her stomach and looked down, startled to discover that her abdomen was flat. No protrusion. Nothing.

But why was that so alarming?

With much difficulty, her brow furrowed as she attempted to make sense of what was happening, everything hazy and disoriented. Her mind was foggy, keeping her from remembering anything as she looked around at her surroundings. Hadn’t she just been arriving at the hospital that afternoon?

Wait, no. Something else had happened afterwards.

What was it?

Her memory was fuzzy, but strangely enough, she could feel her mind beginning to clear itself of the foggy feeling, the pressure in her head lessening as she attempted to sit up before quickly stopping, feeling as if she was about to faint if she tried to prop herself up further. Her head was throbbing.

Her gaze went to the other side of the bed and she grew even more confused at the sight of Enjolras sleeping in the armchair beside her bed, his head resting on his folded arms as quiet snores were emitted from his mouth. He seemed restless, fidgeting in his sleep, and Éponine wished she could work up the energy to reach out to him.

Slowly, she tried moving her mouth, testing it and trying to open it, puzzled by the tightness in her jaw and attempting to ease it out of that tightness. After a bit, she opened and closed her mouth, finally able to move her mouth without the muscles in her jaw fighting against it.

She tried swallowing, letting out a soft cough at how dry and constricted her throat was. She reached up with difficulty to rub her throat, attempting to croak out, “Enj…” She stopped, her voice completely hoarse. She was parched, her dry throat scratchy and sore. Attempting to roughly clear her throat, her throat still dry as a desert, she tried again. “’Jolras…”

It was almost comical how quick Enjolras’ head was to snap up, his blue eyes blinking open and widening at the sight of her awake, and Éponine gazed at him through her clouded vision, trying to shake the blurriness out of her sight. Her lips stretched out into a feeble smile, though it hurt to stretch the muscles in her face, at the look of disbelief on his face.

“’Ponine?” he breathed out, seeming to hold his breath.

Despite it all, Éponine mustered a smile, the only thing making sense to her at the moment being how deliriously happy she was to see him. “You’re here,” she whispered, her throat still scratchy.

Enjolras blinked a few more times before a quiet sob escaped his lips, and he lifted a shaking hand to his face to attempt to wipe away the oncoming tears at the sight of Éponine finally, _finally_ awake, and he got out of the armchair and went over to throw his arms around her neck in his joy, silently weeping as he buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking into her hospital gown. After ten agonising days of waiting to see if she would wake up, she finally had, and Enjolras could feel how badly he was shaking as he wept into Éponine’s shoulder, hearing her soft chuckles.

She struggled to lift her arm, still feeling as if her limbs were made of jello, but she soon settled it on Enjolras’ back, gently rubbing it despite how awkward and stiff her movements felt. He was trembling and crying into her shoulder when an odd sob-laugh fell from his lips, hardly able to believe that she was actually awake and this wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. By the time he pulled back from her, her left shoulder was soaked with his tears; they simply gazed into each other’s eyes for several moments before Enjolras spoke again, sitting down at the edge of her bed.

“I was so scared, Éponine,” he whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as hers. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again. I thought—I thought you were—” He started crying again, running a hand through his golden curls to try and calm himself. “It doesn’t matter. You’re awake.”

Éponine gave him a feeble smile, although she was wondering why he was making such a big deal out of her waking up. “Yeah…”

“Can I—” He cut himself off, a strangled laugh escaping his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Despite herself, Éponine laughed weakly and tried her best to nod. “Yeah.”

Enjolras’ hands went to gently cradle her face as he leaned down to press his lips to hers, noticing how dry her lips were as she put all that was left of her effort into kissing him back, finding that she had sorely missed the feeling of his lips gently moving against hers. She could feel his tears stain her cheeks as he pressed his face to hers, kissing her softly through his tears and making her smile against his lips. It was tender and yet explosive at the same time, stirring something deep within her that left her wanting more by the time he pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You need to shave,” Éponine murmured, having been tickled by the stubble on his chin, and Enjolras simply smiled in response.

He refused to keep putting it off any longer. It was about damn time he said it to her anyway.

Enjolras let out a deep sigh, his forehead gently pressed to hers as he breathed out, “I love you, ’Ponine.”

Éponine felt her breath catch in her throat upon hearing those words uttered by Enjolras to her, and she was just about to try and respond when he went on, babbling, “I should’ve said that so much sooner than I did. I love you so much, Éponine, I was such a mess when you went into that coma after Victoire was born and you had a cerebral haemorrhage, and I still regret not telling you that I love you before tonight.” He drew a sharp breath, closing his eyes. “I love you.”

Éponine’s brow was furrowed in bewilderment at the words that came spilling out of Enjolras’ mouth. Coma? Cerebral haemorrhage? Who the fuck was Victoire?

But she chose not to dwell on that, only able to focus on the fact that Enjolras was here with her, tearfully proclaiming his love to her and making her heart swell in her chest, so much that she felt like it could burst. With the utmost sincerity in her voice, she whispered back hoarsely, “I love you, too.”

She hadn’t been expecting to feel so exhilarated and breathless after saying it back to him, but she did, realising that she had been waiting to say that to him for months now and have him say it to her too, ecstatic that they had finally gotten their shit together long enough to say it out loud. She smiled wanly at how Enjolras’ entire face lit up when she softly said it back to him, blue eyes alight with happiness as they became slightly glassy from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes once again.

A nurse walked into the room with a clipboard, looking down at it before looking up and letting out a tiny gasp at the sight of Éponine awake, proceeding to pull out a pager from her pocket and bringing it to her lips as she approached the bed.

“Dr. Colbert, Éponine Thénardier is awake. She is responsive. Please come to room 457.” The nurse approached Éponine, slipping the pager back into her pocket and smiling down at the young woman. “How are you feeling, honey?” she asked gently.

Éponine frowned. “I’m fine. A little stiff, though.”

What was going on? Why was everyone making such a huge deal out of her waking up?

The nurse was looking at the heart rate monitor and at the IV, scribbling something down on the clipboard she was holding as Enjolras gently took Éponine’s hands in his. “You’re in the ICU, ’Ponine,” he explained softly, rubbing circles into her palms. “You were in a coma for ten days. You had a seizure after you had Victoire,” he told her, as if that would make everything make sense.

Éponine’s brow furrowed even more, shocked to hear that she had been in a coma for _ten fucking days_.

So that’s why she felt so stiff.

“Who’s Victoire?” she asked, trying to put a face to the name but coming up with nothing.

“Peanut,” Enjolras whispered in clarification, hoping she would realise what he was talking about now. “You did it. You gave birth. We have a daughter.”

Éponine’s dark eyes widened upon realising why she had been so alarmed by her flat stomach, and the next thing she knew, she was breaking down in shuddering, trembling sobs upon finding out she had done it. She felt such an unexplainable feeling of happiness at the knowledge that she had a daughter now, crying her eyes out, the only thing on her mind being the thought of seeing her daughter, her precious little Peanut. Enjolras just watched while her sobs eventually died down, feeling tears pricking at his own eyes as the nurse brought over a plastic cup of water for Éponine, helping her sit up slightly.

“Here.” She held up the cup to Éponine’s lips. “Drink up a bit.”

Éponine took several grateful sips, although she was having slight difficulty swallowing. “Where’s my baby?” she asked eagerly, eyes bright. “I want to see her.”

“Éponine Thénardier?” She and Enjolras turned at the sound of a woman’s voice, seeing a tall woman with ginger locks in a white lab coat entering the room. “I’m Dr. Amelia Colbert,” she introduced herself, walking over to Éponine’s bedside. “I’ve been monitoring your recovery. It’s good to see you fully conscious and responsive. You suffered a cerebral haemorrhage when you had your seizure, but it was nothing severe and we’ve been giving you medication to treat it. As for your question, your baby is in the nursery. We can have a nurse bring her in after your physical if you want.”

Éponine slowly nodded in response, keen to meet her baby as she sat up straighter, beginning to regain some control over her limbs. “Yes, please.”

Dr. Colbert pulled a funny little pen-like object from her pocket, requesting, “Will you look at the light for me?”

Éponine stared up at Dr. Colbert as the woman shone a light into her eyes before placing it back in her pocket, pulling out a stethoscope. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Éponine took several deep breaths, inhaling deeply each time Dr. Colbert moved the stethoscope around. She turned to look at Enjolras, giving him a wan smile at the sight of the tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as he reached up to wipe the tears away with his hand.

Enjolras took her hand once again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, ’Ponine,” he told her softly, blue eyes soft and full of love. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

After some time in which Éponine just sat there while Dr. Colbert ran a few physical tests, the red-haired woman stood back up, clicking her tongue in satisfaction. “You seem just fine, Éponine,” she told her with a smile on her face. “You still have yet to fully recover, though, but it doesn’t seem like there are any lasting damaging effects of the internal bleeding you suffered. You need to rest for now, okay? We’ll have Nurse Karolina Stevenson bring your baby to you in just a few moments.” With that, Dr. Colbert and the nurse exited the room, leaving Éponine alone with Enjolras.

She was beginning to regain control over her body and sat up, turning her head to look at the various gifts on the table in the corner by the window and snorting. “The others left those for me?”

Enjolras smiled. “Yeah, they did,” he affirmed softly, rubbing circles into her palm. “They’ll probably want to know you’re awake.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the Amis’ WhatsApp group chat to text them the good news.

**marble man: Éponine’s awake.**

He slid his phone back into his pocket, ignoring how it vibrated every ten seconds or so to notify him of a new text in favour of sitting there on the bed with Éponine, just grateful that she was awake at last. She seemed all too eager to finally meet their Peanut, asking him, “What is she like?”

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Is she quiet? Loud? What does she look like?” Éponine asked, itching to meet their daughter. The word still felt so foreign to her—she could hardly believe she had actually given birth to a little baby girl who was half her and half Enjolras.

“She’s really calm most of the time,” Enjolras replied, more than happy to tell her about their precious little Peanut, their darling Victoire. “I don’t think that will last long, though. I can tell she’s going to take after you. ’Ponine two point oh,” he mused, chuckling, just as they heard a knock at the door.

Nurse Stevenson came in with a bassinet containing Enjolras’ childhood Elmo doll and Victoire, a little smile on her face upon seeing that Éponine was awake. “Do you want to meet your daughter?” Nurse Stevenson asked softly, wheeling the bassinet next to Éponine’s bed and lifting Victoire out.

Éponine nodded aggressively, taking Victoire into her arms and immediately feeling tears in her eyes at getting to hold her little bundle of joy in her arms at last. She was so small; Éponine feared that she might drop her precious baby as she cradled Victoire in her arms, a look of absolute wonder on her face. Nurse Stevenson soon exited the room to give the little family some space, leaving Éponine and Enjolras with their daughter.

“She’s so tiny,” Éponine breathed in awe, caressing her little cheek. “Oh, my God.”

Enjolras scooted closer beside her, his heart bursting at the sight of Éponine sitting there with their daughter in her arms, a look of slight fright and amazement crossing her face. She startled slightly when Victoire opened her eyes, revealing that she had her mother’s eyes, and that was when Éponine really began to cry, joyful tears streaming down her face as Victoire stared up at her intently, curiosity and what appeared to be slight bewilderment in her large, intelligent brown eyes.

“She’s so perfect…” Éponine leaned into Enjolras when he put an arm around her, giggling through her shaky tears at the sight of their daughter and crying even harder at  _finally_ getting to hold her baby in her arms, a tearful smile carving dimples into her cheeks and lighting up her entire face as she gently caressed Victoire’s cheek with a trembling hand, and that was when Enjolras knew.

As he gazed at his girlfriend gazing down at their daughter now with a look of utmost wonder and unconditional love in her warm brown eyes, he _knew_ right there and then, absolutely certain that Éponine was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. If he had had his doubts every now and then before, they all vanished at the sight of Éponine cradling Victoire in her arms, completely spellbound by their daughter, and Enjolras knew for certain now that nothing after this would ever change his mind about wanting to marry her.

“Oh, God,” Éponine murmured breathlessly, bringing Enjolras out of his trance; she was hardly able to believe that they were a little family now, their little Peanut in their midst. She took in the infant’s appearance—Victoire had Enjolras’ hair and a teeny cleft in her chin much like her father’s, but even Éponine herself could see that the rest of Victoire’s soft little features had been inherited from her, from the dimples in her cheeks to her little button nose.

Enjolras gently kissed the top of her head, smiling down at their Victoire as he murmured, “Thank you so much, ’Ponine.” He kissed her temple before whispering into her ear, “I love you.”

Éponine felt herself smile at those words, replying softly, “I love you, too.”

She leaned back against the pillows the nurse had stacked up behind her before she left the room, sighing deeply as Victoire gazed up at them both, still not yet making the connection that Éponine was her mother. “Have you told ’Ferre he’s the godfather yet?” Éponine asked quietly, feeling Enjolras rubbing her arm.

“Yes, I have,” he replied, reaching to stroke Victoire’s soft tufts of blonde hair. “Have you decided on godmother?”

“I think I’ll make Cosette the godmother,” Éponine told him, her voice soft as she traced the little dimple in Victoire’s cheek when she gave a reflex smile. “Might as well. She’s the most responsible one out of us girls.”

Enjolras smiled but said nothing, simply continuing to stroke Victoire’s soft hair as Éponine started singing softly to her, the dryness in her throat beginning to decrease. It was strange knowing that the baby girl she had carried for so long was now out in the world, and she would only grow from here on out. Just then, she froze, an absolutely _terrifying_ thought crossing her mind.

Was this how her parents felt on the day she herself was born? What if they were sitting in the hospital together, proud and delighted to finally have her in their arms, nothing but love and pride consuming them whole upon welcoming their first child into the world? She had witnessed firsthand how people could change so drastically as she was growing up—her parents had gone from being so loving and understanding to cruel and uncaring in what felt like the blink of an eye, and she felt a lump form in her throat at the mere idea of putting her daughter through that.

A slight quiver in her voice, Éponine murmured, “I’m not going to screw this up, am I, ’Jolras?”

“You won’t,” Enjolras reassured her almost immediately, sensing what she was probably thinking about. “You aren’t your parents, ’Ponine. I promise you that.”

“But what if they felt this exact same way when I was born?” Éponine whispered, her voice breaking. “Who’s to say they didn’t actually love me at one point, even if it was during a time I can’t even remember? People change, Enjolras, it’s inevitable, and my parents changed for the worse while I was growing up. What if the same thing happens to us?” She couldn’t put Victoire through that. She knew she would never be able to forgive herself if she did.

“Éponine.” Enjolras took her chin in his hand and gently lifted her head up to gaze into her eyes. Blue eyes soft, he told her quietly, “You are not your parents. Yes, we’ll change as people, but we’ll change and grow with each other and it’ll all be for the better, and we won’t make the mistakes your own parents did. Victoire isn’t going to go through what you went through, I _promise_. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Victoire has the best mother in the world. We’re in this together, ’Ponine. I swear I’ll always be there for you and Victoire.”

“I just… I love her so much already,” Éponine mumbled, looking back down at her darling baby girl, watching as Victoire’s eyelids fluttered. Was it possible to already feel such an overwhelming amount of love towards such a small person within ten minutes of meeting her? “I just don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t,” Enjolras repeated softly, kissing her temple. “I promise you won’t. I’ve got you.”

Éponine smiled, still keeping her gaze fixed on Victoire as she stared up at them, quiet as can be. In that perfect moment, it was just them—just a mother and a father with their child. Just the way it should be.

Éponine had the feeling that they would be okay.

* * *

“Eppy!” Cosette squealed as she came barrelling into the room with Marius close behind her, pouncing on Éponine and wrapping her arms around the brunette. Éponine nearly fell back in bed, quickly recovering and laughing as she embraced Cosette in return. It was three mornings after Éponine woke up, plentiful sunlight streaming in through the window and filling the room, and Enjolras was downstairs in the cafeteria grabbing food for her. Éponine had a funny feeling that all of the Amis would be dropping by to visit her all through the day, since she had been resting for the past three days as the doctors took care of her. She felt sluggish and didn’t really feel up to it, but she knew they were well-intentioned. She _had_ been in a coma for over a week, after all. They only wanted to see that she was all right.

“Hey…” Éponine weakly patted Cosette’s back, nearly having had the wind knocked out of her, as the blonde started crying, blubbering into her shoulder and clinging to Éponine. Cosette’s tears were beginning to soak into Éponine’s hospital gown by the time she pulled away, reaching up to hastily wipe away her tears away as she beamed at Éponine.

“We’re so glad you’re awake,” Cosette exclaimed, tears still trickling out of the corners of her big blue eyes. “I was—we were—it doesn’t matter! Eppy, I’m so glad you’re awake!”

Marius stood by with a tearful little smile on his face as he watched his wife and Éponine, and eventually enough the brunette took notice of him and managed a grin. “Aren’t you going to say anything, Marius?” she asked teasingly, chuckling when his freckled face flushed red.

“We brought you donuts,” Marius offered, holding out the box he was holding to her. Éponine stared at it wistfully, wishing she could reach and snatch the box out of his hands, but she doubted she would be able to eat anything sweet for some time while she was still recovering.

“Thank you guys so much,” Éponine murmured, smiling softly when Cosette pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I don’t think I’ll be able to actually eat them, though. I’ll ask Dr. Colbert about it.”

“Where’s Victoire?” Cosette asked excitedly. “Enjolras took us to the nursery to look at her through the window when we visited you last week but we never got to see her up close.”

“She’ll probably be brought in at some point later today,” Éponine replied, shrugging. After the doctors had taken a sample of her milk to test it and see if it was safe for Victoire, they had eventually decided on alternating between breast milk and formula, and Éponine had been trying to get the hang of breastfeeding whenever she got the chance to. “You’re welcome to stick around if you want to see her.”

“Oh…” Cosette’s face fell. “Eppy, I’m so sorry, but Marius and I have plans with his granddad,” she told Éponine regretfully, biting her lip.

“He’s taking us to the Bronx Zoo,” Marius supplied, although there was definite guilt lingering in his tone.

“It’s fine,” Éponine reassured them both, cracking a smile. “You can always drop by some other day this week. I still don’t know how much longer I’ll be stuck here.”

Cosette smiled and pressed another kiss to Éponine’s cheek as Marius placed the box of donuts on the table by the window. “We’ve got to go now,” the blonde told Éponine, giving her a little encouraging smile. “Stay strong, all right? We’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be okay,” Éponine assured her as she got up, going over to Marius. The couple bid her goodbye before leaving the room just as Enjolras came back, a bag full of snacks in his hand. He went to sit down by Éponine, taking her hand in his.

“How are you feeling, my love?” Enjolras murmured, bringing her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles.

Éponine felt her cheeks grow warm at the affectionate little term of endearment, having noticed how Enjolras had taken to calling her that sometimes when he wasn’t addressing her by name. She replied softly, “I feel fine. A little woozy, but fine.” She fidgeted slightly in place as Enjolras handed her a cup of bright red jello and a little spoon. “When do you think I’ll be able to leave?”

“I’m not sure,” Enjolras admitted. “Hopefully in a week or so.”

Éponine was spooning jello into her mouth when she and Enjolras heard a knock at the door, looking up to see Nurse Stevenson wheeling Victoire’s bassinet into the room. She was peacefully sleeping, swaddled in her blankets, and Éponine smiled as soon as she laid eyes on her baby girl, taking larger spoonfuls of jello into her mouth so she could hold Victoire sooner. Nurse Stevenson left soon after, leaving Victoire with her parents as Éponine finished the last of her jello and carefully lifted Victoire out of her bassinet after disposing of the plastic jello cup in the bin by her bed.

“You’re a cute little alien, aren’t you?” Éponine cooed to the sleeping baby in her arms. She knew she had fallen in love last night the moment she took her little bundle of joy into her arms, delicately cradling her and caressing her little cheek as Enjolras sat down beside her on the bed, putting an arm around her and gently pulling her closer to him.

Éponine sighed and laid her head on Enjolras’ shoulder as she traced Victoire’s cherub cheek, murmuring rather absent-mindedly, “I think I’ll call her Vicky.”

Enjolras pressed a kiss to her temple. “Whatever you want.”

“You’re our little peanut, Vicky,” Éponine whispered to the infant, smiling when Victoire’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her little mouth opening to let out a pint-sized yawn before she fixed her gaze on Éponine, still curious. Nurse Stevenson had told her that Victoire still had yet to make the connection that Éponine was her mother, even though Éponine had breastfed her a couple of times. Her first time had been an absolute nightmare—it had easily been the most awkward experience of Éponine’s life, but she only hoped it would become easier as time went by.

“She has your mouth,” Enjolras noted quietly, caressing Victoire’s head. “She’ll probably be just as mouthy in her teens too.”

Éponine elbowed him, a little grin playing at her lips at his teasing remark. “Oh, shush.”

After a while, Victoire grew rather fussy and Éponine took it as her cue to undo her hospital gown and bring the infant to her breast, still rather disbelieving of the fact that she was able to breastfeed at all. It had always seemed like something only older people could do. She watched as Victoire latched on to her nipple and began to gently suck, staring up at Éponine through wide eyes as she did so, and Éponine felt like her heart could burst at the sight of her daughter so content.

Éponine snuggled up to Enjolras as she fed Victoire, the both of them transfixed by the sight of their daughter, their little Peanut, looking so content as her tiny hand went to rest on Éponine’s breast. Enjolras found that he liked watching Éponine breastfeed Victoire—it was tender and sweet and something only Éponine could do for their daughter, and it warmed Enjolras’ heart to see them both so calm and content.

“How does it feel?” Enjolras murmured, resting his head against Éponine’s as they watched Victoire.

“Still feels weird,” Éponine admitted, brushing her fingers against the tufts of golden hair on Victoire’s little head. “But I love it anyway. It’s comforting, somehow.” It gave her time to really bond with their daughter, and though it still felt awkward, she loved it.

Once Victoire was satisfied, Enjolras took her from Éponine to burp her, not missing how Éponine smirked at the sight of Enjolras propping Victoire up and patting her back until she let out a little burp. “It’s so cute seeing you do that, you know,” she told him, leaning in for a kiss when Victoire was back in her arms.

Enjolras smiled against her lips before pulling away, the both of them looking back down at Victoire and smiling at the sight of their perfect little angel. “We made her, ’Jolras,” Éponine breathed as Victoire’s eyelids started drooping; it was adorable to see her trying to keep them open, trying to stay awake. She let out a breathless laugh when Victoire’s chubby little starfish hands curled into fists, enthralled by the sight of their daughter. “She’s an angel.”

“Just like you,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the top of Éponine’s head as a rosy blush rose to her cheeks. Éponine felt her lips stretch out into a little smile at Enjolras’ words, wondering how she had gotten so lucky.

They heard a knock at the door and looked up, Éponine calling out as she lifted her head up from Enjolras’ shoulder, “Come in!”

The door opened and Courfeyrac, Azelma, Grantaire, and Gavroche entered the room, the four of them immediately making their way to Éponine’s bedside, delighted grins on their faces at the sight of her finally awake. Éponine couldn’t help but notice how Azelma’s grin looked rather strained and wondered what could have happened for it to look that way.

“Éponine!” Under any other circumstances, Grantaire would have screeched out her name, but due to the snoozing baby in the room, he kept his voice down, sitting down beside Éponine on the bed and almost sandwiching her between him and Enjolras. Éponine laughed when Grantaire pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to her cheek in greeting, making sure she was properly holding Victoire with one arm before reaching up to wipe off her cheek.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted softly, looking at the four of them—Courfeyrac was bright-eyed and Gavroche had a little grin of happiness on his face, but oddly enough, Azelma seemed rather jittery. Éponine’s brow furrowed at how uneasy Azelma seemed to be, wondering what on earth could possibly be going on for her to act in such a way.

“We missed you,” Courfeyrac told Éponine candidly, his dark-eyed gaze falling to the sleeping infant in Éponine’s arms. “She looks a lot like you, Ep.”

“She’s got her daddy’s hair, though,” Éponine pointed out, nudging Enjolras slightly as his face turned pink.

Gavroche cleared his throat, prompting the rest of them to glance at him. “Do you guys want to go down to the cafeteria?” he asked, cocking his head. “I just want to grab some food and then we can come back up here.”

Éponine wondered why he was so intent on leaving so quickly, if only for just a little bit of time, but she suspected it had something to do with how Azelma was acting, so she didn’t question it. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, but eventually he just responded, “Sure. Enj, you want to come with?”

Enjolras glanced at Éponine, who nodded. “Just go with them. You won’t be gone for long.”

Soon, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Gavroche had left the room, leaving Éponine with Azelma and Victoire. Her sister and her daughter.

“So what’s up?” Éponine prompted. “There’s got to be a reason you’re staying here with me. You wanted to talk about something, didn’t you?”

Azelma nodded slowly, grimacing. “So I fucked up pretty bad.”

“Shush, there’s a baby in the room!” Éponine pretended to reprimand, although she knew Victoire probably couldn’t hear them.

Azelma sighed. “Éponine, I’m serious.”

Éponine raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the defeat in Azelma’s voice. “Zel, what is it?”

Azelma pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to Éponine. “So… I’m kind of pregnant.”

Éponine’s mouth fell open as the look on her face twisted into one of utmost incredulity as she stared in disbelief at the positive pregnancy test Azelma had handed her. “Oh, shit,” she murmured at last, shocked beyond belief. “Are you serious?”

Azelma sighed again, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “I’m positive,” she said dryly. “Excuse the pun.”

Éponine was staggered by how the tables had turned—months ago, she had been sobbing on Azelma’s couch as the younger woman tried desperately to console her about her pregnancy, and now here they were in a hospital room, Azelma on the verge of tears with Victoire in Éponine’s arms. After a while, Éponine asked, “Whose kid is it?”

Azelma took a deep breath, having been dreading the question. “It’s Courf’s.”

Of course it was.

It took some time for Éponine to process it before she burst out, “I thought you always used protection!”

“I do!” Azelma cried out defensively. “Stupid fucking condom just wasn’t effective enough that one time, apparently!”

 _What are the fucking odds that both Thénardier girls get knocked up within the span of a year?_ Éponine thought wryly, taken aback by the completely unexpected news. She noticed how Azelma seemed to have tears in her eyes and was quick to comfort her sister, asking quietly, “Does anyone else know?”

“Just Gav,” Azelma replied, sniffling slightly.

“Seriously?”

“You were in a goddamn coma, Éponine. Do forgive me for telling the sibling who wasn’t unconscious when I found out.”

Éponine figured that was fair, looking down at Victoire and biting her lip before looking up again to see that Azelma was hastily wiping away her tears with her hand. “What do you want to do, Zelma?” she asked softly, reaching out to take her sister’s hand.

“I don’t know.” Azelma sounded completely hopeless as she ran her free hand through her auburn hair, completely at a loss. “I just—I’ve been doing so well in school, I’m on my way to becoming a nurse practitioner and then I had to go and get knocked up. I haven’t even turned twenty-two yet, for Christ’s sake! I don’t know what I want to do.” She looked down at her flat stomach, sighing. “I’m not even sure if Courf wants a kid. For all I know, he could run away screaming when I tell him.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Éponine assured Azelma automatically. “I know Courfeyrac—he can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He won’t leave if you keep the baby, and if he does, I’ll kick his ass,” she told Azelma, echoing the redhead’s words from months and months ago.

Azelma cracked a smile at the memory of her threatening to kick Enjolras’ ass back in December if he tried to leave Éponine, appreciating how her older sister was offering to do the same for her about Courfeyrac right now. “I don’t know what I want to do, Ep,” she mumbled, her gaze trailing down to Victoire, reaching out to trace her niece’s cheek. “I think I really do want a kid at some point, but I don’t want to sacrifice everything I’ve done so far for a baby. If I do keep it, how am I supposed to balance school and work _and_ taking care of a kid?” Azelma let out a huffy sigh, completely clueless as to what to do, whispering barely audibly, “I’m so lost, Éponine.”

“You should talk to Courf about it first,” Éponine suggested, trying her best to be helpful in spite of how she had no idea how to deal with this kind of thing. Being pregnant herself was one thing, but having her sister be the pregnant one was a whole different story. “But just so you know, in the end, it’s entirely your choice. It’s your body and you should be able to choose what to do with it.”

“But that’s the thing—I have no idea what choice I’m going to go with,” Azelma whined petulantly, tears pricking at her eyes yet again. “Tell me what to do, Éponine. Choose how my life is going to end up for me.”

Éponine smiled apologetically at her sister, slowly shaking her head. “I can’t do that, Zel. You know I can’t.” After a while, she told Azelma, “I don’t care what choice you make as long as it’s your choice. I’ll be here for you no matter what, whether you choose abortion, adoption, or keeping the baby.” She squeezed Azelma’s hand. “I’m your sister. I’ll always be here for you.”

Azelma smiled feebly at Éponine, still at a loss about what to do. “Thanks, Ep. I’ll think about it.”

After a while, the others returned, and Azelma got to her feet, taking a deep breath. “Courf, can I talk to you for a sec? Alone?” she requested, her voice quivering just slightly.

Courfeyrac’s brow furrowed out of curiosity, wondering what on earth Azelma wanted to talk to him about. Nevertheless, he agreed, nodding in assent. “Sure. Right now?”

Azelma nodded, and once she and Courfeyrac had left the room, Gavroche and Grantaire stayed for a little while more to give Azelma and Courfeyrac some space and fuss over Victoire before they too left the little family, leaving Éponine with Enjolras and Victoire. Enjolras sat down beside her on the bed again, putting an arm around her as she softly sang to Victoire.

“What did you and Azelma talk about?” he asked curiously, caressing Victoire’s head.

“Nothing much,” Éponine replied cryptically, only further fanning the flames of his curiosity, but Enjolras said nothing else, knowing Éponine would tell him when she decided the time was right to do so.

She sighed and leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder as they gazed down at their sleeping daughter. “We’re not going to mess this up, are we?” she murmured, feeling Enjolras’ lips brush the top of her head.

“I’ve got you, ’Ponine,” he assured her quietly, one hand resting on Éponine’s hip as the other hand stroked Victoire’s cheek.

Éponine lifted her head up to look at him with a little smile on her face, murmuring, “I really, really love you, pretty boy.”

Enjolras smiled, his heart soaring at hearing those words again from Éponine, and he leaned in for a tender kiss, his lips capturing hers. When he pulled away, his face mere inches from hers, he replied softly, “I really, really love you, too.”

* * *

Éponine and Enjolras took their seats in the lobby chairs of the hospital lobby, waiting for Éponine’s discharge from the hospital to be finalised. Just an hour before, Victoire had been officially discharged, and once the hospital had run Éponine’s paperwork through the system, they would be on their way home to really start their lives as parents. It was about two weeks after Éponine woke up and it was nearing the end of July. Éponine was dressed in comfortable clothes, wearing jean shorts and a loose My Chemical Romance T-shirt, and she gazed down at Victoire in her arms, bundled in the red monogrammed blankie Combeferre had gotten for her and sleeping peacefully.

“Does it feel strange to you?” Enjolras asked as he gazed at Victoire as well, his heart bursting at the sight of their daughter in his girlfriend’s arms. “Finally leaving the hospital.”

“No,” Éponine replied serenely, fiddling a bit with her locket and watching as Victoire’s eyelids fluttered, alerting her that she would be waking up soon. “I’m okay now. We can finally take our baby home. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

She had spent the past two weeks being treated for the cerebral haemorrhage she had suffered and Dr. Colbert had finally deemed her fit enough to go home, although she was still being put on medication and had scheduled a doctor’s appointment in about a month to see how things will have turned out by then. She was nervous, but excited to finally start her new life as a mother, watching Victoire sleep in her arms as she felt Enjolras put an arm around her.

They had spent the past two weeks learning to care for Victoire, and though it got taxing at times, Éponine felt a feeling of absolute warmth and love overtake her each and every moment she spent with their daughter. Victoire had become more of Éponine and Enjolras’ charge as the days passed by, the doctors and nurses putting her more and more in their care, and now they were finally being rewarded by being able to take her home. Éponine sometimes worried about just how difficult caring for Victoire would end up becoming without the hospital staff to assist her and Enjolras, but she had a feeling they would be okay.

Éponine still felt somewhat insecure about motherhood, but she was learning to tackle it, bathing Victoire and feeding her and just getting to know her daughter better by having light-hearted one-sided conversations with her, telling Victoire about the Amis and of what to expect from them. Fatherhood came astoundingly naturally to Enjolras—of course it did, he always had to be perfect at everything, the asshole—and though Éponine had initially been the slightest bit annoyed by how infuriatingly easily he interacted with Victoire, it had grown on her; he clearly doted on their daughter, and with the way Victoire easily calmed down whenever she was in his arms, it was evident that she was a real daddy’s girl. It warmed Éponine’s heart to see Enjolras so lovestruck by their little Peanut.

Victoire was still a pretty tranquil baby as far as babies went, but Éponine expected that to change soon, especially after Nurse Stevenson told her of how that would probably change once Victoire grew accustomed to a more fixed environment. Éponine and Enjolras knew they were lucky to have such a peaceful little baby, but they knew she wouldn’t remain this calm forever, especially once she became more exposed to the antics of Les Amis on a more regular basis. Éponine found herself _expecting_ Victoire to become more feisty as she grew; she was her mother’s daughter, after all.

Victoire’s eyes soon fluttered open and Éponine smiled at how she blinked drowsily at her and Enjolras, her large brown eyes dazed and sleepy. Éponine gave her baby girl a finger to hold on to, feeling warmth spread throughout her entire body when Victoire’s chubby little starfish hand curled around her pointer finger, grasping it tight, and Éponine gently bounced Victoire in her arms. Enjolras smiled at how Éponine lifted Victoire slightly, leaning down to kiss her little forehead.

“Good morning, Peanut,” Éponine murmured, her voice soft. “Did you sleep well?”

Victoire simply blinked blearily at her in response, evoking a little laugh from Éponine. Enjolras reached over to gently caress Victoire’s cheek as she turned her gaze to him, blinking up at him and gurgling.

Enjolras felt his lips curve upward into a smile, still unable to completely wrap his head around the fact that he and Éponine had a daughter, their perfect little angel. “She’s going to take after you,” he told Éponine softly, kissing his girlfriend’s temple. “I just know it.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling too,” Éponine agreed, smiling at how Enjolras brought their chairs closer together so she could lean into him and only now noticing how he had Victoire’s little stuffed Elmo, formerly his, in his hands. Victoire scrunched up her face and squirmed slightly, and Éponine took it as her cue to take the little blue pacifier out of her bag and place it in Victoire’s mouth. The infant quieted down, sucking gently on it as she stared up at Éponine through big brown eyes, Éponine rubbing her belly to calm her. “She’s going to be a feisty little thing, I can just tell.”

“Éponine two point oh,” Enjolras murmured; Éponine could hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you so much.”

Éponine scrunched up her face at him and looked up, a little smile playing at her lips as brown eyes met blue. “What for?”

“For giving us a family,” Enjolras replied matter-of-factly, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. Éponine leaned in closer to close the gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss before they broke apart moments later to gaze into each other’s eyes. “I love you, ’Ponine.”

Éponine smiled, feeling a warm, rosy blush rising to her cheeks at his words. “I love you too, ’Jolras.”

It was hard to believe it had been less than a year since she found out she was pregnant. It felt as if _years_ had passed, and they had all come out of it as completely different people. She knew they would still change as the years went by, but now, she didn’t feel any need to worry, knowing they would learn and grow with each other. If there was one thing she was absolutely sure of amidst all the uncertainty in her life, it was that she and Enjolras would last.

Enjolras’ parents had driven in from upstate just a few days ago to meet their granddaughter and it had been an hour of laughter and tears as Angela and Antoine thoroughly spoiled Victoire, ecstatic about their new status as grandparents. Angela had been crying as she held her granddaughter in her arms for the first time and Enjolras had gotten Nurse Stevenson to take several photographs of him, Éponine, and Victoire with his parents to commemorate that moment. He was already forming plans to take Éponine and Victoire upstate to one of his parents’ log cabins, preferably the smaller, simpler one of the two, at some point, wanting to take them to see the fireflies in the fields he had spent his childhood summers running through with Combeferre.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” Éponine’s voice brought Enjolras out of his trance, and he looked at her with a look of utmost certainty in his bright blue eyes.

“Yes, we will,” he replied assuringly, the both of them looking back down at their daughter, who was still gazing up intently at them. “We’re in this together, my love. It’s you and me forever.”

“Mr. Enjolras? Miss Thénardier?” The two of them looked up upon hearing the receptionist calling their names from her desk. When they gave her similar expectant looks, she told them warmly, “You’re free to go.”

Enjolras got to his feet, taking Éponine’s bag for her and slinging it over one shoulder as he called back, “Thank you.” He was clutching Elmo in one hand, giving Éponine his other hand to help her to her feet after she made sure Victoire was secure in her arms. “I guess it’s time for us to go.”

Éponine gave him a little smile, holding Victoire and rocking her slightly. “So I guess this is where it all begins, huh? Parenthood.”

Enjolras wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “So it does.” He drew back to meet her eyes, blue eyes gazing into brown with nothing but tender love and affection in them. “We’ll be all right. As long as we stick together, I know we will.”

Éponine nodded, believing him. She trusted Enjolras with all of her heart, and if he had hope that things would turn out okay, then she would too. They weren’t perfect; she knew they were bound to run into some bumps in the road along the way, but if he had faith that they would be all right, then she would have faith as well. She stood on tiptoe, Victoire still secure in her arms, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips before drawing back, a small, hopeful smile on her face carving dimples into her cheeks.

“Let’s go home, Enjolras.”

The two of them made their way to the hospital exit, turning around to take one last look at the place they had spent almost a month in. After taking one last look at the hospital lobby, they walked out of the building and into the summer sunshine, ready to turn the page to a new chapter of their lives.

_Parenthood—ready or not, here we come._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this still isn't the end of the fic, guys! stay tuned!!
> 
> thank you all so so so much for all the support i've received on this story over the past few months, you have no idea how much your sweet comments and reviews mean to me. i read through all of them again yesterday and i'm not going to lie—i cried. i love all you readers to the moon and back; thank you all so much for taking time out of your day to read each update of this little passion project of mine and taking time to leave the sweetest comments i've ever had the fortune to receive. it really means a lot to me. every little comment (and every ask on tumblr, anon or otherwise, regarding this fic) never fails to make my week each time i receive one, and each and every one of you readers have a special place in my heart. again, thank you so much for the support!!


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i suppose i should stop putting it off for later. with this i bring intertwined to a close :') another daughter off to college.
> 
> but! remember! the _fic_ may be over, but the _story_ certainly isn't. let me know in the comments if you'd be willing to read any sequels i might put out for this!!

* * *

Éponine stood amid the tall stalks of grass underneath a tree, one hand absent-mindedly toying with her heart-shaped locket, as she watched them in the field, playing in the midst of all the fireflies as dusk fell upon them, the sky painted in all shades of red and orange. It was a breathtaking sight, watching Enjolras and Victoire playing in the field full of fireflies while dusk rapidly fell, and she felt the corners of her lips tilting upwards into a smile at the sight of her boyfriend and their daughter playing together, not a care in the world.

The past year had been a series of ups and downs as Éponine and Enjolras learned to care for their baby girl, crying together through all of Victoire’s milestones—her first real smile, beginning to babble, rolling over, sitting up, teething, learning to crawl, her first word, and her long-awaited first steps—and they had all celebrated with their friends when Victoire’s first birthday rolled around just a couple of weeks ago. She was toddling everywhere now, Enjolras always close at her heels, and Éponine smiled at how he was now lifting Victoire into the air and holding her close to his face, the tip of his nose nuzzling hers. Though Victoire had inherited Éponine’s plump lips and dimples, whenever her little mouth curved up into that adorable, goofy little grin that put the sun to shame, Éponine saw Enjolras’ smile.

Azelma had ultimately decided to keep her child and she and Courfeyrac had _finally_ gotten together for real, finding a place to move into together and take care of their son. Somehow, they made it work—Azelma found a way to balance school and taking care of Louis, who was about three months old at this point, and Courfeyrac was completely spoiling his son, spending as much time as he could with Louis whenever he wasn’t at work. Marius and Cosette were now expecting twins, Cosette in her fifth month of pregnancy, and Éponine couldn’t help but think about how so much had changed in so little time.

At some point back in May, Éponine had made the questionable decision to bring Victoire with her to work, introducing her to her students and letting them gush over her before she fell asleep and Éponine had to put her back in her little car seat, placing it in a corner of the art studio. For once, her students had been relatively subdued with Victoire in the room, but Éponine didn’t think she would bring her daughter into school again until she was much older. Enjolras had been thriving as a lawyer, although ever since Victoire’s birth, he left work early each day to take care of Victoire with Éponine. His decision to do so had been met with many scathing remarks from his male coworkers, as Éponine found out when visiting him at work one day with Victoire in tow, but she had been pleased to hear Enjolras calmly insult his coworkers’ parenting skills, calling them useless excuses of partners for never having changed a diaper in their lives. Grantaire had been spending quite a bit of time at their place whenever Éponine and Enjolras were at work to help take care of Victoire, Toby accompanying them, and the little family couldn’t be happier about that arrangement.

Victoire had grown into quite the feisty young thing, loud and demanding—just like her mother—and she was constantly babbling now, having learned how to properly say “Mommy” and “Daddy” earlier than most as well as somewhat butchering the words “uncle” and “auntie” when referring to Les Amis and “nana” and “papa” in referral to Angela and Antoine; it was evident that Victoire took after Éponine. Her wavy golden hair had grown in thick, framing her little face and reaching just below her ears, and she was squealing with laughter now as Enjolras lifted her up into the air and twirled her around amid the fireflies, his own laughter reaching Éponine’s ears.

Some time after Victoire’s first birthday, Enjolras had taken her and Éponine upstate to stay in one of his parents’ log cabins and see the fireflies. It was a breezy summer night, the fields and forest illuminated by luminous little yellow fireflies as the sky grew darker, the reds and oranges giving way to deep purples and blues. It was a clear night, the heavens dotted by thousands of stars that seemed to go on forever, and Éponine grinned up at the sky, her breath taken away by the sight before her eyes.

Enjolras soon made his way back to Éponine as Victoire toddled around on her wobbly little legs among the fireflies, babbling to herself, a goofy little dimpled smile lighting up her little face. Éponine startled slightly when she felt Enjolras put an arm around her, recovering quickly and relaxing as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking an arm around his waist as they gazed at their little one-year-old daughter playing by herself in the field of fireflies, utterly content.

“She’s perfect,” Éponine murmured, unable to keep herself from smiling at the sight of Victoire, their precious little angel, toddling about, captivated by the fireflies. Victoire was the apple of her eye; Éponine often wondered if it was even possible to love someone as much as she and Enjolras loved their daughter.

“Like I’ve said so many times before, Éponine two point oh,” Enjolras replied softly, his free hand slipping into his pocket as he kept his gaze on Victoire. “She’s a lot like you.”

Éponine smiled at his words, the cool summer breeze making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end and sending shivers down her spine as the chiffon of her crimson shirt flapped about in the wind. It was a perfect night and Éponine couldn’t imagine spending it with anyone other than the two people she loved the most, Enjolras and Victoire.

“Hey, ’Ponine?” She hummed in acknowledgement upon hearing Enjolras saying her name somewhat tentatively. “Would you ever want another kid?”

Éponine considered it for a few moments before she replied softly, “Someday. Not right now, though—I’ve just gotten my figure back,” she pointed out in a slightly joking manner, jutting her hip out to one side and exaggeratedly tracing her curves through her chiffon shirt, eliciting a little chuckle from Enjolras. Over the course of the past year, she found that the thin silver stretch marks on her stomach and breasts didn’t bother her as much as she thought they would have, though she had initially been insecure about how much her body had changed from the pregnancy. She and Enjolras had stocked up on condoms and Éponine had gotten better about taking the pill after Victoire was born, not wishing to have any more ‘oops!’ babies in their future. “I don’t want to carry another kid anytime soon. Maybe a few years from now, though. I’m sure Vicky would love to have a sibling or two.”

“I think she’d be happier to get a dog, to be honest,” Enjolras remarked, remembering how Victoire had squealed and immediately toddled over to play with his parents’ Saint Bernard Anneliese when visiting them in his hometown, just a few miles from the log cabin. She also seemed to have grown fond of Toby, always playing with him—or at least trying to—whenever Grantaire brought him over to their place.

Éponine laughed, her eyes still on Victoire, who was spinning in circles in place among the fireflies, laughing and babbling to nobody in particular. “Then let’s get a dog!”

Enjolras smiled and kissed the top of Éponine’s head. “We’ll see.”

He loved her and Victoire with all of his being, more than anything else in the world, and over the course of the past year, he had slowly come to realise that he was willing to do absolutely anything for them. Éponine was his moon, the light of his life, while Victoire was the brightest star in his sky, the two of them lighting up his world and bringing indescribable happiness into it.

The past year had proved to be difficult as they were faced with the trials and tribulations of parenthood, but they had always managed to get through it, often with a little help from their dear friends. All of the Amis have babysat Victoire at some point, Grantaire most of all—Victoire seemed to have decided that he was her favourite uncle, judging by the way she always screamed “Unca R!” in utmost delight ever since she learned how to say it and went over to him as fast as she could whenever he came over, and he was all too willing to take care of her whenever Éponine and Enjolras were at work or simply too tired to do so.

Enjolras felt around in his pocket and grinned to himself as he kept his gaze on Victoire, who had tripped but quickly gotten up again, his grin morphing into a bit of a grimace when Victoire wiped the dirt off her hands on her little blue shortalls and proceeded to toddle through the fireflies again. “I love you, ’Ponine,” he murmured to her. “So much.”

Éponine looked up, giving him a curious little smile. “I love you too, but what brought this on?”

“What do you think about marriage?” Enjolras asked candidly, figuring he might as well skip the big speech he had been considering giving to get straight to the point.

Éponine smirked up at him, reaching up to ruffle his golden curls. “Why, are you thinking about proposing, pretty boy? Because you know I’d say yes.”

 _Well, in that case…_ Enjolras took the crimson-coloured velvet box out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a ring, the ring he had gone out and bought some time after Éponine’s twenty-fifth birthday. She had initially thought he had been joking, causing her dark eyes to widen and her breath to catch in her throat at the sight of the stunning engagement ring in the box, a petite twisted-vine ring encrusted with diamonds and inlaid with the most gorgeous round-cut aquamarine.

Éponine gaped at the ring before looking up at Enjolras, brown eyes wide as they met his brilliant blue. His blue eyes seemed to be sparkling, full of fondness and affection and complete, unconditional love as he gazed into her eyes with a tender, eye-crinkling smile, hope written all over his face.

“Marry me,” he whispered breathlessly.

The stunned look on Éponine’s face soon fell away and was replaced by a bright, teary-eyed smile, and before Enjolras could react, Éponine was throwing her arms around his neck and jumping up to hook her legs around his waist, kissing him fiercely and with abandon as if her life depended on it. Enjolras staggered back a few steps, snapping the ring box shut with one hand and clutching it tight, before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, sighing at how kissing her felt like coming home and moving a hand up into her hair. Once they had broken apart, breathless, he asked softly, “Is that a yes?”

Éponine nodded, overjoyed tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Yes, a million times yes,” she murmured in confirmation, a dimpled smile lighting up her entire face and making Enjolras’ heart soar.

She was soon on solid ground again and Enjolras slipped the engagement ring onto her ring finger. Shortly after he slipped it on, Victoire came toddling towards them as fast as her wobbly little legs could take her, shouting, “Mommy! Mommy, Mommy!”

Éponine laughed and hoisted Victoire up, holding her and booping her nose. “What is it, Peanut?” she cooed, bouncing Victoire up and down in her arms and making the little girl giggle.

Victoire simply babbled nonsensically in response, her chubby little starfish hands grabbing Éponine’s face as Éponine leaned in to nuzzle her nose against her daughter’s before Victoire smacked a wet kiss on Éponine’s nose. Éponine laughed out loud, pressing a kiss to Victoire’s forehead and bouncing the toddler up and down in her arms as Victoire babbled excitedly to her, her giggles carving dimples into her chubby little cheeks. Enjolras laughed and leaned close to kiss the top of Victoire’s head before doing the same with Éponine, and Victoire soon turned to Enjolras, reaching out for him and crying out happily, “Daddy!”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Enjolras took Victoire from Éponine’s arms into his, holding her as the toddler ran her hands over the traces of stubble on his chin. Éponine felt like her heart could burst at the sight of Enjolras laughing as Victoire ran her chubby little hands over the stubble on his chin, unable to keep herself from smiling as Enjolras leaned in to press a kiss to Victoire’s little forehead, the little girl giggling madly as he did so. Soon, he was gently placing her on the ground again and holding her little hand as the two of them made their way to the centre of the field again, hundreds of fireflies swarming around them and lighting up the night. Éponine leaned back against the trunk of the tree, crossing her arms across her chest as her lips quirked into a smile while she watched Enjolras and Victoire playing together amid the swarms of fireflies in that field, bathed in moonlight.

She gazed down at her engagement ring, admiring how the starlight caught in the diamonds and made them glitter like the stars themselves, and her mind began to wander back to how far they had come since the night of Enjolras’ twenty-fourth birthday. It was incredible, thinking about how lucky they were to have found each other, the universe having guided them towards one another and blessing them with the most perfect baby girl they could ever ask for.

Watching Enjolras and Victoire now, Éponine knew she was the luckiest woman alive.

She looked at her engagement ring again, still enchanted by the sheer beauty of it and running her fingers over the diamonds. In a little under two years, her life had turned completely upside down and changed for the better, and she was forever grateful that she and Grantaire had gravitated towards Les Amis way back in their college days. Never did she expect to end up pregnant with Enjolras’ baby, nor did she expect to fall in love with him _after_ that had all happened—a drunken one-night stand had led to something more, and he had gone from being strictly her best friend to her boyfriend and now her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, all in the span of a year and several months. Looking back on it now, it amused her somewhat—people usually fell in love _before_ reproducing.

Her hand going to her locket, she toyed with it absent-mindedly, opening it to gaze at the minute picture inside—it was a tiny photograph of her, Enjolras, and Victoire together during Victoire’s first Christmas. Éponine still remembered when they had taken that picture—it had been taken just after sundown, the three of them all bundled up for the winter and snow falling all around them as Éponine and Enjolras stood in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre with a six-month-old Victoire in Enjolras’ arms, a tiny brown newsboy cap that matched Éponine’s on her head and a goofy toothless grin on her face as the three of them smiled for the camera.

Éponine gazed at Enjolras now—the love of her life, her best friend—and she felt herself smiling fondly at the look of utter, unadulterated joy on his face as he lifted Victoire up into the air and twirled her around, his blue eyes crinkled with laughter as Victoire’s delighted squeals carried on in the night. Éponine smiled softly, watching her boyfriend—no, her _fiancé_ and their daughter playing amidst the fireflies under the light of a thousand stars, identical grins on their faces, and she let out a deep, contented sigh. It was perfect—just the three of them in that field, a little family, starlight raining down upon them as fireflies lit up the ground as far as the eye could see. She would never trade this happiness for anything else, not once in a million years.

Éponine had finally gotten her happy ending with Enjolras—a _family_ —and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Éponine's engagement ring.](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/41/fb/ca/41fbca432827f644aa49bca6de9430dd.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> we did it, guys! i never would have been able to finish this fic without your endless love and support, thank you all so much!!!!!
> 
> i'd like to give a shoutout to [Saoirse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832), thank you so so so much for all your help with doing research!! i never would've been able to write this without your help and i'm so glad you're my friend
> 
> thanks also to [Kara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Girl123/pseuds/Writer_Girl123) for being my cheerleader as this went along, as well as the lovely anons i get sometimes on tumblr!!! your endless love and support were what motivated me to keep on writing this, so thank you so much for that!!
> 
> as i said before, the _fic_ may be over but the _story_ certainly is not; i still have so many ideas and headcanons for these darling characters in this particular au and i would love to write some follow-up fics as companion pieces to this one. let me know in the comments if you're up for any sequels!!


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